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premature  Socialist 


UNIV.  OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY.  LOS  ANGELED 


*     , 


BERTRAM  AND  His  FACETIOUS  ATDIENCE. 


'a  WUttWst  f  torp 
Su'ttt  Juto  &  Corn? <&£ 


Copyrighted,   1003. 

BY 
MAIIY    IVKS    TODD 


All  Rights  Reserved. 


AFFECTIONATELY    INSCRIBED 

TO 

SOCIALISTS  AND  ANTI-SOCIALISTS. 
M.  I.  T. 


2133263 


a 

premature  Socialist 


"Humanity  is  growing  in  intellect,  in 
fiatience,  in  kindness, — in  love. 

And  when  the  time  is  ripe  the  People 
ivill  step  in  and  take  peaceful  possession  of 
their  own? 

—EL  BERT  HUB  BARD. 


"Fair  Freedom's  ship,  too  long  adrift — 

Of  every  wind  the  sport — 
Now    rigged    and    manned,    her    course    well 
planned, 

Sails  proudly  out  of  port; 


We  want  no  kings  but  kings  of  toil, 

No  crowns  but  crowns  of  deeds—- 
Not royal  birth,  but  sterling  worth 
Must  mark  the  man  who  leads." 

Ella  Wheeler  Wilcox. 

"On  every  side,  constantly,  the  spirit  of  un- 
rest and  dissatisfaction  is  working  to  improve 
the  world,  to  develop  mankind  in  mind  and 
body  and  to  teach  us  how  to  use  all  the  things 
that  were  put  into  the  world  for  our  benefit. 

"Every  political  movement  that  has  given 
the  people  more  freedom  has  been  the  result  of 
discontent.  The  rulers  have  always  been  satis- 
fied, as  the  trust  organizers  are  now  satisfied. 
But  every  year  or  two  the  DISCONTENT  OF  THE 
PEOPLE  has  been  organized  and  progress  to- 
ward better  things  has  gone  on." — Erom  Edi- 
torial Section  of  a  Hearst  Newspaper. 


a 


'HE  Handwriting  on  the  Wall  proclaims  the 
doom  of  unrighteous  monopoly.  Accord- 
ingly, the  rule  of  money,  by  money  and  for 
money,  draws  to  a  close.  It  has  proved  an  un- 
holy one,  hence  its  doom. 

Why  unholy?  Because  it  has  brought  to  pass 
an  era  of  hard  materialism  which  is  crushing  the 
life  out  of  the  people.  Man  cannot  live  by  bread 
alone,  even  if  Monopoly  furnished  each  poor  crea- 
ture with  all  the  bread  he  could  eat.  Man  is  born 
of  God  and  heir  of  God-like  ideals.  These  ideals 
Monopoly  ignores.  Or  if  they  assert  themselves 
in  any  way  which  threatens  the  rule  of  money  by 
money  and  for  money,  they  are  ruthlessly  sup- 
pressed. 

But  the  God-man  in  man  cannot  be  permanently 
suppressed.  Even  if  crucified  he  rises  again.  He 
is  rising  now  in  the  bosom  of  the  people,  prepar- 
ing for  an  ascension  into  a  higher  realm  of 
thought  and  being  than  any  yet  occupied. 

Monopoly,  having  so  long  and  so  completely 

bound  fast  the  American  people,  heirs  of  Liberty 

and  joint-heirs  to  a  New  World,  it  would  not  be 

surprising  if,  when  once  thoroughly  awake,  they 

5 


P  R  E  F  'ACE 

proceeded  to  rush  with  perhaps  undue  celerity  in 
the  opposite  direction,  that  of  Socialism. 

William  M.  Ivins,  recently  Republican  can- 
didate for  Mayor  of  New  York  City,  questions 
whether  the  American  people  are  not  being  driven 
in  the  direction  of  Socialism  by  the  Monopolists. 
He  admits  that  practically  all  the  wealth  of  the 
State — all  that  should  constitute  the  Common- 
wealth— has  passed  into  private  hands  and  with  it 
has  passed  the  actual  power  that  should  be  the 
State's:  the  land,  means  of  transportation  and 
communication  by  railway,  by  water,  by  electric- 
ity; the  means  for  supplying  artificial  light,  the 
function  of  banking,  of  insurance. 

As  Ouida's  story,  entitled  "An  Altruist,"  con- 
tained some  very  suggestive  thoughts  on  this  sub- 
ject, and  as  it  has  not  received  the  attention  it 
merits,  I  have  put  many  of  her  ideas  together, 
with  a  few  of  my  own,  in  the  form  of  a  comedy.  I 
trust  this  play,  which  I  have  called  "A  Premature 
Socialist,"  will  be  examined  with  care  on  the  part 
of  thoughtful  readers.  I 

The  dramatic  profession  may  not  consider  it 
"worth  while,"  under  the  impression  that  their 
public  merely  want  to  be  amused,  not  instructed. 

Again,  it  is  just  possible  that  theatre-goers 
may  want  a  change  of  diet;  a  part  of  them.  I 
hope  so.  MARY  IVES  TODD. 

6 


D 

r  a  m  a 

t 

*     •* 

**r.< 

t  tt  a> 

WILFRED  BERTRAM,  a  Premature  Socialist. 

LORD  SOUTH  WOLD,  Bertram's  Uncle. 

LORD  MARLOW,  a  J^iY. 

FANSHAWE,  Editor  of  the  "Torch." 

SIR  HENRY  STANHOPE. 

THE  DUKE,  His  Grace  of  Biddlington. 

FOLLIOTT,  a  Lawyer. 

SAM,  Brother  of  ANNIE  BROWN. 

CRITCHETT,  Bertram's  Valet. 

HOPPER,  a  Drunkard. 

SMALL  BOY. 

Two  CRITICS. 

ANNIE  BROWN,  Engaged  to  BERTRAM. 

CICELY  SEYMOUR,  in  Love  zvith  BERTRAM. 

LADY  SOUTHWOLD,  Bertram's  Aunt. 

LADY  JANE  RIVAUX. 

MRS.  BROWN,  Mother  of  ANNIE  BROWN. 

BESSY,  a  Small  Girl. 

Some  extra  people  for  WILFRED  BERTRAM'S 
lecture  and  for  LADY  SOUTHWOLD'S  house- 
party. 

A  SPORTING  GENTLEMAN  and  A  PRACTICAL 
POLITICIAN. 

'A  Couple  of  Policemen,  Several  Musicians, 
Three  Anarchists. 


Art    ©  n  * 


A    JJr?  mature 


ACT  I. 

SCENE  I. — The  scene  is  WILFRED  BERTRAM'S 
rooms  in  Piccadilly,  facing  Green  Park.  The 
time  is  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  The 
audience  is  a  number  of  men  and  women  of 
that  class  -which  calls  itself  Society.  Some 
appear  zvell  bored,  for  WILFRED  BERTRAM, 
a  Socialist,  has  been  reading  a  badly  copied 
MS.  for  more  than  an  hour.  There  are  still 
a  formidable  number  of  sheets  unread,  the 
sight  of  which  gives  his  audience  much  un- 
easiness. 

BERTRAM  (reading}  :  Now  that  we  have  ob- 
served how  many  advantages  the  people  of  The 
New  Republic — or,  what  might  well  be  termed, 
The  State  of  the  Golden  Rule — will  have  over  our 
present  capitalist  regime,  we  shall  proceed  to  dis- 
cuss its  elements  of  stability,  as  compared  with 
those  which  have  passed,  or  are  passing,  off  the 
stage  of  humanity. 

We  have  already  seen  that  a  government,  car- 
ried out  as  planned,  will  be  truly  a  government 
of  all  the  people,  by  all  the  people,  and  for  all  the 
people.  Those  of  the  past  have  been  of  the  mi- 
nority and  for  the  minority.  Those  of  to-day  are 
everywhere  largely  controlled  by  money. 

The  prime  condition  of  stability  in  a  state  is 
II 


rA    PREM'ATURE     SOCIALIST 

that  it  should  rest  on  a  direct  interest  of  the  peo- 
ple in  the  welfare  of  the  whole. 

It  has  been  a  fatal  weakness  of  those  "Com- 
monwealths" of  which  the  competitive  system  is  a 
normal  part — now  giving  place  to  the  rule  of 
giant  monopolies — that  each  citizen  had  but  a 
sentimental  and  indirect  interest  in  his  govern- 
ment; while  his  mind  was  mainly  centered  on 
making  a  living;  or  given  to  heaping  up  coin 
for  the  degrading  end  of  becoming  an  autocrat. 

So  long  as  the  capital  of  a  country  and  its 
economic,  interests  remain  in  the  hands  of  private 
persons,  just  so  long  governments  are  bound  to 
be  corrupt  and  to  cater  to  class  interests ;  to  as- 
sist in  degrading  labor  and  in  unduly  elevating 
and  becoming  subservient  to  the  rich. 

In  the  New  Republic,  or  the  Socialist  State, 
every  citizen  will  be  both  a  Knight  of  Labor 
and  a  Capitalist.  Where  all  work  and  none  shirk, 
every  one  will  be  able  to  taste  the  sweets  of 
leisure  and  know  'the  joys  of  a  many-sided  cul- 
ture  

(BERTRAM'S  attention  is  rudely  arrested  by  a 
person  in  the  audience  muttering  in  confi- 
dence to  his  walking  stick:) 

OLD  GENTLEMAN  :  It's  all  rot ! 

A  PRETTY  GIRL  (sympathetically)  :  What  a 
shame,  when  he  is  so  much  in  earnest ! 

A  CRITIC  :  Bores  always  are  awfully  in  earnest. 

LORD  MARLOW  :  If  he  would  only  give  us  some- 
thing to  drink 

A  PRETTY  GIRL  (with  a  withering  glance)  : 
You  can  get  plenty  to  drink  in  the  street. 

12 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

BERTRAM  (perceiving,  at  last,  that  he  has  been 
zvearying  his  audience — a  knowledge  which  is 
slozu  to  steal  upon  the  teacher  of  mankind)  :  My 
dear  people, — I  mean,  ladies  and  gentlemen, — 
if  you  are  so  soon  weary  of  so  illimitable  a  sub- 
ject, I  fear  I  must  have  failed  to  do  it  justice. 

LORD  MARLOW  (who  is  so  thirsty  that  his  pa- 
tience is  exhausted)  :  So  soon?  Oh,  hang  it!  We 
came  upstairs  at  half-past  three,  and  you've  had 
all  the  jaw  to  yourself  ever  since,  and  it's  past 
five  now  and  we're  all  as  thirsty  as  dogs. 

BERTRAM  (ivitli  a  countenance  expressing  ex- 
treme disdain)  :  I  did  not  invite  you,  Lord  Mar- 
low.  If  I  had  done  so  I  would  have  provided  beer 
and  skittles  for  your  entertainment. 

LORD  SOUTHWOLD  (BERTRAM'S  uncle — a  bald- 
headed  gentleman  with  a  pleasant,  ruddy  coun- 
tenance, in  amiable  haste)  :  Oh,  I  say,  Wilfred, 
come  finish  your  address  to  us ;  it  is  extremely  in- 
teresting. 

ALL  TOGETHER  (with  animation,  now  they  are 
aware  that  he  is  too  much  disgusted  to  go  on)  : 
Immensely  interesting ! 

BERTRAM  (in  a  tone  intended  to  be  apologetic, 
but  which  is  actually  only  aggressive,  since  it 
plainly  implies  that  his  pearls  have  been  thrown 
before  swine — closing  at  the  same  time  his  manu- 
script and  notebooks)  :  I  ask  your  pardon  if  my 
infirmities  have  done  injustice  to  a  noble  theme. 

LORD  MARLOW  (exasperatingly)  :  Nothing 
could  be  clearer  than  what  you've  said.  Nobody 
is  to  have  anything  they  can  call  their  own,  and 

13 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

everybody  who  likes  is  to  eat  in  one's  plate  and 
bathe  in  one's  bath. 

BERTRAM  (with  sententious  chilliness} :  At 
theatres  the  buffoon  in  the  gallery  is  usually 
turned  out,  with  the  approval  of  the  entire  audi- 
ence. Were  I  not  in  my  own  chambers 

LORD  MARLOW  (laughs  rudely)  :  I  don't  think 
you  could  throw  me  downstairs.  Your  diet  of 
brown  bread  and  asparagus  doesn't  make  muscle. 

A  GUARDSMAN  (on  the  next  scat  to  him  mur- 
murs) :  My  dear  fellow — before  women — pray, 
be  quiet. 

LADY  SOUTH  WOLD  (coaxingly)  :  Do  finish  your 
reading,  Wilfred.  Your  views  are  so  disinter- 
ested, if  they  are  a — a — a  little  difficult  to  carry 
out  as  the  world  is  constituted. 

BERTRAM  :  Excuse  me,  I  have  trespassed  too 
long  on  every  one's  indulgence.  It  is,  I  believe, 
altogether  impossible  to  attempt  to  introduce  al- 
truism and  duty  into  a  society  which  considers 
Lord  Marlow's  type  of  humanity  as  either  whole- 
some or  ornamental. 

LORD  SOUTH  WOLD  (hurriedly)  :  I  never  knew  a 
lecture  on  socialism  or  anarchy — I  suppose  they 
mean  about  the  same  thing — that  didn't  end  in  a 
free  fight.  But  we  can't  have  one  here,  Wilfred, 
there  are  too  many  ladies  present. 

THE  DUKE  OF  BIDDLINGTON  (a  shabby  little 
old  gentleman,  doubled  up  in  his  chair,  murmurs 
doubtfully}  :  I  don't  see  how  your  theories  would 
work,  Bertram. 

BERTRAM  :  Don't  you,  Duke  ?    Is  there  not  such 

14 


'A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

a  proverb  as  Fais  ce  que  dois,  advienne  que 
pourraf 

THE  DUKE  (nods  his  head  as  he  admits}  : 
There  is.  But  I  am  afraid  it  will  land  you  in 
Queer  street  sometimes.  There's  another  old 
saw,  you  know,  "Look  before  you  leap!"  Safer 
of  the  two,  eh?  Let  me  repeat,  "Look  before 
you  leap!" 

BERTRAM  :  For  the  selfish,  no  doubt. 

A  LOVER  OF  PRACTICAL  POLITICS  :  I  think  you 
said  that  property  was  like  a  cancer  in  the  body 
politic.  (Puts  his  glass  in  his  eye  to  observe  BER- 
TRAM attentively.) 

BERTRAM  (with  hauteur,  angry  that  people 
cannot  even  quote  him  correctly)  :  I  said  the  con- 
solidation and  transmission  of  property  was  so. 

A  LOVER  OF  PRACTICAL  POLITICS:  Ah,  it 
seems  to  me  the  same  thing. 

LORD  MARLOW  :  No  more  the  same  thing  than 
Seltzer  and  the  Sellinger ! 

A  LOVER  OF  PRACTICAL  POLITICS  (humbly)  : 
Oh,  indeed,  forgive  my  stupidity. 

BERTRAM  (sententiously  and  with  a  gesture 
implying  that  his  indulgence  to  human  imbecility 
is  inexhaustible,  but  sorely  tried)  :  I  had  hoped 
that  you  would  have  gathered  from  my  previous 
discourse  how  intense  is  my  conviction  that  those 
who  possess  property  should  give  it  up,  gener- 
ously, spontaneously,  for  the  good  of  all,  before 
awaiting  that  inevitable  retribution  which  will 
fall  on  them  if  they  continue  to  insult  the  Peo- 
ple by  their  display  of  wealth,  unearned  and  un- 
justified; for  the  riches  of  the  noble  and  the  mil- 
15 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

lionaire  are  as  absolutely  theft  as  any  stolen 
goods  obtained  by  violence  and  fraud,  and  do 
continually  provoke  the  crimes  which  they  so 
savagely  denounce  and  punish 

LORD  SOUTHWOLD:  Humph!  That's  strong. 

CICELY  SEYMOUR  (itith  her  usual  charm)  : 
La  Propriete  c'est  le  vol,  propri'c t'e  d'autrui,  oni; 
niais  pas  la  micnnc! 

LORD  MARLOW  :  If  there's  no  flimsy  anywhere 
who'll  breed  the  racers? 

THE  CRITIC:  Who'll  buy  Comet  clarets? 

PRETTY  GIRL:  Who'll  employ  cooks? 

SPORTING  GENTLEMAN  :  Who'll  keep  up  the 
shooting? 

ANOTHER  CRITIC:  Who'll  build   Valkyries? 

DUDE:  Who'll  dance  cotillions  or  go  to  "The 
Flying  Dutchman"? 

BERTRAM  (with  dignity}  :  My  friends,  these 
are  mere  frivolous  jests  on  your  part.  When  the 
entire  structure  of  our  rotten  and  debased  so- 
ciety shall  have  been  shattered  there  will,  of 
course,  be  no  place  in  a  regenerate  world  for 
these  mere  foolish  egotisms. 

LORD  SOUTHWOLD  (irritated}  :  Foolish  ego- 
tisms !  Oh,  Lord !  A  good  glass  of  wine  a  fool- 
ish egotism? 

THE  DUKE  (in  alarm)  :  Do  you  mean  you 
want  Local  Option?  I  would  not  have  come  if 
I'd  known  that. 

BERTRAM  (zvith  irritation)  :  There  is  no  ques- 
tion of  local  option  or  of  total  abstinence.  Duke. 
If  property  were  generally  and  duly  distributed, 
wine  would  be  so,  too;  and  if  individualism 
16 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

were  duly  recognized,  you  would  no  more  dare 
to  interfere  with  the  drunkard  than  with  the 
genius. 

LORD  SOUTH  WOLD  (hilariously}  :  African 
sherry  all  around — what  a  millennium!  Tipplers 
all  over  the  place,  and  no  lock-up  to  put  'em  in ! 
What  an  Arcadia ! 

THE  PRACTICAL  POLITICIAN  :  Genius  has  fre- 
quently been  compared  to  inebrity,  but  I  have 
never  known  quite  such  a  slap  in  the  face  given 
to  it  as  this.  Max  Nordau  is  deferential  in  com- 
parison. 

BERTRAM  (addressing  the  DUKE,  but  glancing 
at  CICELY  SEYMOUR)  :  Look,  sir,  at  the  utter  de- 
basement of  our  financial  system.  What  are 
banks  except  incentives  to  crime?  What  are 
the  Bourses,  the  Exchanges,  or  Wall  Street,  ex- 
cept large  seething  cauldrons  of  sin?  What  are 
the  great  speculating  companies  if  not  banded 
thieves  for  the  stripping  of  a  gullible  public? 
What  is  the  watch  you  wear,  with  its  visible 
chain  glaring  across  your  waistcoat,  except  a 
base,  mean,  grinning  mockery  of  the  hungry 
man  who  meets  you  in  the  street? 

LORD  MARLOW  (taking  out  his  watch)  :  My 
conscience  is  clear  in  that  respect.  My  watch  is 
a  Waterbury,  and  wouldn't  fetch  the  hungry 
man  a  shilling  if  he  pawned  it. 

LORD  SOUTH  WOLD  (touching  a  steel  chain)  : 
And  my  chain  was  poor  Hector's  collar  and  I 
wear  it  in  memory  of  him.  How  he'd  thresh  out 
five  acres  of  turnips  before  luncheon!  We  shall 
never  see  his  like. 

17 

• 


'A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

BERTRAM  (growing  impatient}  :  Individually 
you  may  wear  Waterburys  or  dog-collars,  but 
each  is  nevertheless  a  symbol  of  inequality  be- 
tween you  and  the  man  in  the  street,  who  is 
obliged  to  look  at  the  church  clock  to  see  the 
hour  at  which  he  may  seek  the  parish  dole. 

LORD  SOUTHWOLD  (zvith  satirical  dignity}  : 
What  profound  philosophy !  What  crimes  one 
may  commit  without  knowing  it ! 

LADY  JANE  RIVAUX  :  If  a  watch  be  an  un- 
wholesome sign  of  bloated  aristocracy,  pray,  Mr. 
Bertram,  what  are  our  jewels? 

BERTRAM  (scornfully}  :  There  are  no  words 
strong  enough  to  condemn  the  use  of  gems, 
whether  from  a  moral  or  an  aesthetic  point  of 
view.  In  a  purified  condition  of  society  they 
would,  of  course,  become  impossible  abomina- 
tions. 

(For  a  moment  there  is  a  dead  silence;  the  ladies 
present  being  too  horrified  to  speak;  the 
men  grinning  complacently.} 

LADY  JANE  RIVAUX  (recovering  from  her 
first  shock  of  surprise  at  such  blasphemy,  asks 
zvith  vivacity}  :  But  just  consider  all  the  people 
you  would  throw  out  of  employment?  The  peo- 
ple who  dig  for  jewels,  don't  they  dig?  The  peo- 
ple who  polish  them,  and  cut  them,  and  set  them, 
and  deal  in  them ;  the  people  who  make  iron 
safes,  and  the  patent  locks,  you  throw  them  all 
out  of  work?  Surely  that  wouldn't  be  doing  any 
good?  What  would  become  of  the  miners  and 
lapidaries  and  jewelers  and  all  the  rest? 

BERTRAM    (smiles  with  pitying  disdain}  :  Oh 
18 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

my  dear  Lady  Jane,  your  kind  of  reasoning  is 
as  old  as  the  hills  and  carries  its  own  refutation 
with  it.  All  those  workmen  and  tradesmen 
would  be  liberated  from  labors  which  now  de- 
grade them,  and  would  thus  be  set  free  for  higher 
work — work  worthy  of  being  illumined  by  the 
light  of  reason. 

LADY  JANE  RIVAUX:  What  work?  Would 
they  all  be  schoolmasters  and  governesses?  Or 
all  authors  and  artists? 

BERTRAM:  What  work?  Such  work  as  the 
community  might  organize  and  distribute,  such 
work  as  might  be  needful  for  the  general  good. 
When  everyone  will  work,  everyone  will  have 
leisure.  The  poet  will  mow  the  meadow  in  the 
morning  and  compose  his  eclogues  in  the  after- 
noon. The  painter  will  fell  trees  at  dawn  and 
at  noon  paint  his  landscapes  in  the  forest.  The 
sculptor  will  hew  coal  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth 
for  a  few  hours  and  come  to  the  upper  air  to 
carve  the  marble  and  mould  the  clay.  The  author 
will  guide  the  plough  or  plant  the  potato-patch 
at  sunrise  and  will  have  the  rest  of  the  day  free 
to  write  his  novel  or  study  his  essay 

LORD  SOUTHWOLD  (ruffling  his  grey  hair  in 
perplexity}  :  Humph  !  The  precise  use  of  wast- 
ing Sir  Frederick  Leighton's  time  on  a  seam  of 
coal,  and  Mr.  Swinburne's  on  a  mowing  ma- 
chine, I  don't  exactly  perceive.  However 

CICELY  SEYMOUR  (looking  at  BERTRAM 
timidly)  :  Pierre  Loti  is  your  ideal,  then.  He 
"has  gone  down  to  the  deep  in  ships"  before  he 
writes  of  sea  life. 

19 


'A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

BERTRAM  (whose  tones  express  regret 
mingled  with  condemnation)  :  With  his  true  and 
profound  altruism  he  should  have  gone  before 
the  mast. 

LADY  JANE  RIVAUX  :  I  suppose  our  sex  will 
have  to  sweep  and  cook  before  we  are  allowed 
to  frolic. 

LORD  MARLOW  (zvho  has  with  difficulty  kept 
his  mouth  shut)  :  You'll  have  to  produce  a  cer- 
tificate that  you  have  made  and  baked  three 
dozen  pigeon  pies  before  you'll  be  allowed  one 
waltz. 

LADY  JANE  RIVAUX  (in  a  lively  manner) : 
We  shall  sweep  our  own  chimneys,  clean  our- 
selves, and  play  the  violin.  We  shall  have  to 
cook  our  salmon  before  we're  allowed  to  fish 
for  it;  we  shall  have  to  roast  our  pheasants  be- 
fore we're  allowed  to  shoot  them,  and 

BERTRAM  (interrupting  with  scant  courtesy)  : 
I  understood  that  those  who  did  me  the  honor 
to  come  here  to-day  brought  open  minds  and 
philosophical  views  to  this  meeting,  or  I  should 
not  have  invited  you  to  discuss  and  consider  the 
best  means  for  the  educated  classes  to  anticipate 
the  coming  changes  in  the  world. 

THE  DUKE:  Why  should  we  anticipate  them 
when  they'll  be  so  deucedly  uncomfortable  to  all 
of  us? 

LORD  SOUTHWOLD:  Yes,  indeed,  it'll  be  bad 
enough  to  grin  and  bear  'em. 

BERTRAM  (playing  wearily  with  his  shut 
notebook)  :  If  you  cannot  see  the  theoretic 
beauty  of  united  and  universal  work,  it  is  hope- 

20 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

less  to  expect  that  you  should  desire  its  practical 
adjustment  to  everyday  life. 

THE  PRACTICAL  POLITICIAN  :  Well,  but  it  is 
just  the  utter  unworkableness  of  your  system 
which  damns  it  in  the  eyes  of  rational  men.  Par- 
don my  saying  so. 

LADY  SOUTHWOLD  (coaxingly)  :  Give  them 
some  tea,  Wilfred;  they  are  all  growing  cross. 

BERTRAM  (already  cross}  :  As  you  please. 
But  it  is  to  me  absolutely  frightful  to  see  how 
unconscious  of  your  doom,  and  how  indifferent 
to  the  great  movements  of  the  day  you  all 

THE  DUKE  (in  an  oratorical  manner')  :  If 
they  are  really  great  movements,  they'll  move 
without  us ;  you  can't  stop  an  ice-berg  or  an 
earthquake  with  your  little  finger.  But  there's 
a  good  deal  of  grit  in  the  old  order  still.  Yes, 
I'll  have  a  cup  of  tea,  Wilfred;  I  see  you've  got 
it  there. 

BERTRAM    (zvearily)  :  Critchett — tea! 

CRITCHETT  (ivho  is  the  perfection  of  all  the 
virtues  of  valctdom}  :  Yes,  sir. 

LORD  MARLOW  (wholly  undisturbed  by  the  in- 
sults that  have  been  heaped  upon  him — calls 
out)  :  And  temperance  drinks,  Critchett!  Lem- 
ons divorced  from  rum,  sterilized  milk,  barley 
water,  tartaric  acid 

CICELY  SEYMOUR  (stueetly)  :  How  do  you 
reconcile  your  conscience  to  the  debasing  offices 
which  you  employ  Critchett  to  fill  for  you? 

LADY  SOUTHWOLD:  Or  to  the  fact  of  keeping 
a  Critchett  at  all? 

21 


'A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

LORD    MARLOW:    Surely    it's    Critchett    who 
keeps  him — out  of  a  strait-waistcoat. 
(CRITCHETT  hands  tea  and  coffee  and  chocolate, 
in  a  silver  service  with  cakes,  fruit  and  bis- 
cuits. ) 

LADY  JANE  RIVAUX:  And  all  these  pretty 
things,  Mr.  Bertram?  Surely  they  are  the  flesh- 
pots  of  Egypt,  and  ought  not  to  be  here? 

BERTRAM  :  They  ought  not,  nor  Critchett 
either. 

LADY  JANE  RIVAUX  :  Oh,  he  is  such  a  delight- 
ful servant;  so  noiseless,  so  prevenant,  and  so 
devoted  to  you ;  you  would  never  find  his  equal 
if  you  sent  him  away. 

BERTRAM  :  No ;  but  for  one  man  to  serve  an- 
other is  contrary  to  all  principles  of  self-respect 
on  either  side. 

LADY  SOUTHWOLD  (cries  out  with  impa- 
tience} :  How  I  wish  you  were  small  enough  to 
be  whipped !  What  a  deal  of  good  it  would  do 
you ! 

BERTRAM  (smiling  faintly)  :  Flagellation 
was,  I  believe,  most  admirable  discipline ;  but  we 
have  grown  too  effete  for  it.  Our  bodies  are  as 
tender  as  our  hearts  are  hard. 

CICELY  SEYMOUR  (in  a  very  soft  voice)  :  I 
have  always  thought  that  if  everybody  had  ten 
thousand  a  year  nobody  would  ever  do  any- 
thing wrong. 

BERTRAM  (looking  at  CICELY  approvingly)  : 
You  are  on  the  right  road,  Miss  Seymour.  But 
as  we  cannot  generalize  property,  we  must  gen- 
eralize poverty.  The  result  will  be  equally  good. 

22 


LORD  SOUTHWOLD  (roars  very  loudly}  :  Good 
Lord !  I  never  heard  such  a  subversive  and  im- 
moral doctrine  in  all  my  days! 

BERTRAM  (glancing  pityingly  at  him}  :  And 
yet  it  is  based  on  precisely  the  same  theory  as 
the  one  which  you  accepted  when  you  passed  the 
Compulsory  clause  of  the  Parish  Councils  Bill. 

LORD  SOUTHWOLD  (very  angrily}  :  The  Up- 
per House  passed  that  infamous  bill.  I  was  in 
the  minority  against  it. 

YOUNG  MAN  (with  an  ingenuous  counte- 
nance} :  But  when  everybody's  got  sixpence  a 
day  and  nobody  sixpence  halfpenny,  surely 
somebody '11  have  a  try  for  the  illegal  halfpenny, 
won't  they?  It  is  human  nature. 

BERTRAM  (very  positively}:  Certainly  not! 
Nobody  will  ever  wish  for  an  extra  halfpenny, 
because  when  inequality  shall  be  at  an  end  envy 
and  discontent  will  be  unknown.  Besides,  if  all 
the  property  of  the  world  was  confiscated  or  re- 
alized and  equally  distributed,  the  individual 
portion  would  come  more  nearly  to  half  a  crown 
a  head  per  diem.  On  half  a  crown  a  head  per 
diem  anyone  can  live 

LORD  SOUTHWOLD  (sighs}  :  Oysters  are  three 
shillings  a  dozen. 

BERTRAM  (with  impatience}  :  Of  course,  if 
you  expect  to  continue  the  indulgence  of  an  epi- 
cure's diseased  appetites 

LORD  SOUTHWOLD  (sighing  again}  :  It's  the 
oysters  that  are  diseased,  not  our  appetites. 

BERTRAM  (ignoring  his  uncle's  nonsense}  :  If 
I  have  made  anything  clear  in  my  recent  re- 
23 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

marks  it  must  surely  be  that  Property  is,  in  the 
old  copy-book  phrase,  the  root  of  all  evil ;  the 
mandrake  growing  out  of  t'.ie  bodies  of  the  dead, 
the  poisonous  gas  exhaling  from  the  carrion  of 
prejudice,  of  injustice,  and  of  caste. 

LADY  SOUTHWOLD  (tuY/z  impatience}  :  But  my 
dear  Wilfred,  yours  is  rank  Communism. 

BERTRAM  (loftily}  :  You  can  call  it  what  you 
please.  It  is  the  only  condition  of  things  which 
would  accompany  pure  civilization.  When, 
however,  I  speak  of  half  a  crown  a  day,  I  use  a 
figure  of  speech.  Of  course,  in  a  purely  free 
world  there  would  be  no  coined  or  printed  money, 
there  would  be  only  barter. 

LORD  MARLOW  (astonished}  :  Barter!  I  should 
carry  two  of  my  Berkshire  pigs,  one  under  each 
arm,  and  exchange  them  with  you  for  a  thou- 
sand copies  of  your  Age  to  Come. 

CICELY  SEYMOUR  (dotibtfully}  :  I  think  barter 
would  be  inconvenient.  And  what  should  I  bar- 
ter? I  can't  make  anything.  I  should  have  to 
cut  off  my  hair  and  wait  a  year  till  it  grew  again. 
(Everyone  laughs,  and  BERTRAM  even  relaxes 
his  gravity.} 

BERTRAM  :  I  fear,  Miss  Seymour,  that  Solon's 
self  would  give  you  all  you  wished  for  a  single 
smile. 

smile.  (Glancing  from  Miss  SEYMOUR  to  his 
company  he  says:}  Ah,  I  came  near  forgetting 
our  Socialist  Musicians.  While  you  are  in  your 
cups  we  will  have  them  give  us  one  of  their 
songs  set  to  the  well-known  air  of  "Onward, 
Christian  Soldiers." 

24 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

(BERTRAM  disappears  to  return  with  tzvo  seedy- 
looking  ^nd^vid^lals.  During  his  absence  the 
same  person  who  had  remarked  to  his  cane, 
"It's  all  rot !"  repeated  his  remark.  The  au- 
dience laughs.*) 

(BERTRAM  takes  his  trio  of  musicians  to  a  far 
corner  of  the  room  ^vhere  they  quite  disap- 
pear behind  a  piano  with  uplifted  cover.  He 
scats  himself  by  the  accompanist  ready  to 
turn  the  sheets  of  music.  The  tune  being 
no  novelty  and  the  words  indistinguishable, 
for  the  most  part,  the  audience  proceed  to 
entertain  themselves  with  pantomimic  per- 
formances. These  become  so  funny,  that, 
now  and  then,  there  is  an  explosion  of 
laughter  intermingled  with  ill-suppressed 
giggling  and  snickering.  When  the  music 
stops  the  audience,  to  make  up  for  bad  be- 
havior, cheer  in  a  vigorous  manner.  BER- 
TRAM is  pleased  and  proceeds  to  introduce 
his  Socialist  friends,  right  and  left,  and  to 
treat  them  to  tea  and  cake.  While  thus  oc- 
cupied a  small  boy  comes  into  the  room,  out 
of  breath,  grinning,  with  several  oblong 
pieces  of  printed  paper  in  his  hand;  he 
pushes  his  way  unconcerned  between  ladies 
and  gentlemen,  and  thrusts  the  papers  at 
BERTRAM.) 

SMALL  BOY  :  Here,  mister,  you  must  tone  these 
here  down ;  manager  says  as  Fanshawe  says  as 
the  British  Public  .wouldn't  never  stand  them 
pars,  he's  marked  at  no  time;  and  manager 

25 


A     PREMATURE    SOCIALIST 

says  as  I  was  to  tell  you  Public  is  extra  nervous 
now  'cos  o'  that  bomb  at  Tooting. 

BERTRAM  {taking  the  sheets  in  ill-humor  and 
tearing  them  across)  :  Mr.  Fanshawe  is  well 
aware  that  I  never  correct  and  I  never  suppress. 
I  forbid  the  production  of  the  article  in  a  muti- 
lated state.  (He  hands  the  pieces  to  the  boy.) 
Bid  Mr.  Fanshawe  return  me  my  original  copy. 

SMALL  BOY  (looking  frightened)  :  Who'll 
pay  for  this  here  setting-up,  sir,  please,  if  proof 
ain't  to  be  used? 

LORD  SOUTH  WOLD  (amazed)  :  Did  you  say 
Fanshawe?  Do  you  mean  the  great  Fanshawe 
of  the  Torch?  Can  anything  be  possibly  too 
strong  for  him? 

THE  DUKE  (who  rather  likes  subversive  opin- 
ions, considering  philosophically  that  he  will  be 
in  his  grave  before  they  can  possibly  be  put  into 
practice)  :  Oh,  my  dear  Wilfred,  do  let  us  hear 
what  you  have  said.  It  must  be  something  ter- 
rific! 

SMALL  BOY:  What  am  I  to  tell  the  manager 
about  payin'  for  the  setting-up  of  this  here,  if 
type's  to  be  broken  up,  sir? 

BERTRAM  (in  extreme  irritation)  :  Go  out  of 
the  room,  you  impudent  little  rascal.  Critchett, 
turn  the  boy  out ! 

LORD  MARLOW  (gets  up  and  offers  the  boy  a 
plate  of  pound  cake)  :  You  are  not  civil  to  your 
sooty  Mercury,  Bertram.  He  offers  you  at  this 
moment  the  most  opportune  illustration  of  your 
theories.  He  comes  on  an  errand  of  the  intel- 
lect, and  if  a  somewhat  soiled  messenger,  he 
26 


'A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

should  nevertheless  be  treated  with  the  respect 
due  to  a  guardian  of  literary  purity  and  public 
morality.  Sweet  imp!  refresh  your  inner  man! 
(The  boy  stuffs  his  mouth  and  grins.) 

BERTRAM  (very  angry)  :  Are  these  chambers 
mine  or  yours,  Lord  Marlow? 

LORD  MARLOW  :  Both  yours  and  mine,  or 
neither  yours  or  mine.  There  is  no  such  thing 
as  exclusive  possession.  You  have  just  told  us 
so. 

BERTRAM  (pointing  with  a  stony  stare  at  the 
printer's  devil)  :  Critchett!  turn  that  boy  out  of 
the  room. 

(CRITCHETT,  reluctantly  touching  anything  so 
sooty,  takes  him  by  the  collar  and  drives  him 
before  him  out  of  the  room.) 

LORD  MARLOW  (picking  up  the  torn  proofs')  : 
Who'll   pay   for  the   setting-up,   asks  this   dear 
child.   Unused  proofs  are,  I  suppose,  first  cousins 
to  spilt  milk  and  spoilt  powder.  Mayn't  we  read 
this    article?      The    title    is    suggestive — "Fist- 
right  and  Brain-divinity."    Are  you   feloniously 
sympathetic  with  the  Tooting  bomb? 
(BERTRAM  takes  the  torn  proofs  from  him  in  ir- 
•  ritation  and  throws  them  into  the  open  door 
of  a  cabinet.) 

BERTRAM  (significantly)  :  The  essay  is  ad- 
dressed to  persons  of  intelligence  and  with  prin- 
ciple. 

LORD  MARLOW  :  But  it  seems  that  Fanshawe 
had  neither,  if  he  failed  to  appreciate  it? 

BERTRAM  :  Fanshawe  has  both ;  but  there  are 

27 


rA     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

occasional  moments  in  which  he  recollects  that 
he  has  some  subscribers  in  Philistia ! 

THE  DUKE  (chuckling}  :  Fanshawe  knows 
where  his  bread  is  buttered — knows  where  his 
bread  is  buttered. 

LORD  MARLOW  (with  his  usual  want  of  tact}  : 
If  Fanshawe  doesn't  publish  it  he  won't  pay  for 
it,  will  he? 

BERTRAM  (much  annoyed  at  the  turn  the  con- 
versation has  taken)  :  I  do  not  take  payment  for 
opinions. 

THE  DUKE  (with  a  chuckle)  :  Most  people 
run  opinions  in  order  to  get  paid  for  'em. 

CICELY  SEYMOUR:  Why  are  you  not  in  Parlia- 
ment, Mr.  Bertram? 

BERTRAM  (with  the  faintness  of  horror;  in- 
credulous that  he  can  hear  aright)  :  In  Parlia- 
ment! 

CICELY  SEYMOUR:  Well,  yes;  have  I  said  any- 
thing so  very  dreadful? 

LADY  SOUTHWOLD  :  Oh,  my  dear  Cicely !  Ever 
since  Wilfred  came  of  age  we  have  all  been  at 
him  about  that;  he  might  have  had  a  walkover 
for  Sax-Stoneham,  or  for  Micklethorpe,  at  any 
election,  but  he  would  never  even  let  himself  be 
nominated. 

BERTRAM  (shrugging  his  shoulders  in  inef- 
fable disgust)  :  Two  Tory  boroughs ! 

LADY  SOUTHWOLD:  You  could  have  held  any 
opinions  you  had  chosen.  Toryism  is  a  crepon 
changeant  nowadays;  it  looks  exactly  like  Rad- 
icalism very  often,  and  only  differs  from  it  in 
being  still  more  outrageous. 
28 


'A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

CICELY  SEYMOUR:  But  perhaps  Mr.  Bertram's 
objection  is  to  all  representative  government? 

BERTRAM  (glancing  gratefully  at  her)  :  Pre- 
cisely so,  Miss  Seymour. 

CICELY  SEYMOUR:  But  what  could  you  substi- 
tute? 

LADY  SOUTHWOLD:  Oh,  my  dear  Cicely,  read 
his  paper,  the  Age  to  Come,  and  pray  spare  us  a 
discussion  before  dinner. 

CICELY  SEYMOUR  (with  persistent  interest  in 
the  topic)  :  But  what  would  you  substitute? 

THE  PRACTICAL  POLITICIAN  :  Yes,  what  would 
you  substitute? 

(BERTRAM  is  out  of  temper;  these  acquaintances 
and  relatives  worried  him  into  giving  this 
exposition  of  his  altruistic  and  socialistic 
views  and  then  they  brought  a  fool  with 
them  like  MARLOW  and  have  turned  the 
whole  thing  into  a  farce.  To  BERTRAM  his 
views  are  the  most  serious  things  in  crea- 
tion. He  does  not  set  them  up  like  croquet 
pegs  for  imbeciles  to  bowl  at  in  an  idle 
hour.) 

BERTRAM  (patience  all  gone)  :  I  would  abolish 
all  Government. 

CICELY  SEYMOUR  (astonished)  :  Oh!  But  how 
would  you  control  people? 

BERTRAM  :  Sane  people  do  not  require  to  be 
controlled. 

CICELY  SEYMOUR  :  But  I  have  heard  a  man  of 
science  say  that  only  one  person  out  of  every 
hundred  is  really  sane. 

BERTRAM   (with  eyes  resting  on  her  with  ap- 
29 


'A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

proval)  :  We  are  bad  judges  of  each  other's 
sanity.  But  since  you  take  an  interest  in  seri- 
ous subjects,  I  will,  if  you  will  allow  me,  send 
you  some  back  numbers  of  the  Age  to  Come. 

LORD  SOUTHWOLD:  Do  you  mean,  Wilfred, 
that  an  obtuse  world  is  so  ungrateful  as  to 
leave  you  any  back  numbers  at  all? 

BERTRAM  (ignoring  the  interruption)  :  They 
will  show  you  what  my  views  and  the  views  of 
those  who  think  with  me  are,  concerning  the 
best  method  of  preparing  the  world  to  meet 
those  social  changes  which  are  inevitable  in  the 
future,  those  rights  of  the  individual  which  are 
totally  ignored  and  outraged  by  all  present  gov- 
ernments, whether  absolute,  constitutional,  or,  in 
nomenclature,  republican. 

LORD  SOUTHWOLD:  But  why  should  we  pre- 
pare to  meet  them  when  they'll  be  so  deucedly 
uncomfortable  to  us  if  they  do  arrive,  and  why 
should   we   trouble   about  helping  them   onward 
if  they  are  so  cocksure  in  their  descent  on  us? 
I  asked  that  question  just  now  and  you  didn't 
answer  me.     Does   one   avoid  an   avalanche   in 
the  Alps,  by  firing  a  gun  to  make  it  fall  sooner 
than  it  would  do  if  left  alone? 
(CRITCHETT  is  meantime  engaged  on  the  expul- 
sion of  the  printer's  devil  by  a  back  stair 
.  exit,  and,  a  little  girl,  who  has  come  in  the 
front  entrance,  pushes  aside  the  portiere  of 
the  door  and  stands  abashed  in  the  middle 
of  the  room.    She  is  eight  years  old,  has  a 
head  of  red  hair,  and  the  shrewd,  watchful 
face  of  the  London  child;  she  carries  a  penny 
30 


'A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST, 

bunch  of  violets;  BERTRAM  sees  her  entrance 
with  extreme  displeasure,  not  unmixed  with 
embarrassment. ) 

BERTRAM  :  What  do  you  want  here,  Bessy? 

BESSY  (advancing  and  holding  out  her  vio- 
lets) :  Annie  sends  these  'ere  violets  with  her 
love,  and  she's  got  to  go  to  'Ealin'  for  a  big 
border  o'  mustard  an'  cress,  and  please  when'll 
you  be  round  to  our  place? 

BERTRAM  (extremely  annoyed)  :  Run  away, 
my  good  child.  You  see  I  am  engaged. 

BESSY  (persistent)  :  When'll  you  be  round  at 
our  place?  The  pal  as  lodges  over  Cousin  Joe 
hev  given  us  tickets  for  Hoxton  Theayter,  and 
Annie  says  as  how  she'd  go  if  you  wasn't  comin' 
in  this  evenin'. 

BERTRAM  (imperiously)  :  Run  away,  child. 
Critchett!  (CRITCHETT,  who  has  returned  with  a 
demure  smile,  guides  the  steps  of  the  reluctant 
BESSY  from  the  room.}  Why  do  you  let  these 
children  in,  Critchett?  (asks  BERTRAM,  as  the 
valet  returns.} 

CRITCHETT  (humbly,  as  he  lays  the  violets 
dozvn  on  a  cloisonne  plate}  :  I  beg  pardon,  sir, 
but  you  have  told  me  that  you  are  always  at 
home  to  the  Brown  family. 

BERTRAM  :  You  might  surely  have  more  judg- 
ment, after  all  your  years  of  service.  There 
are  exceptions  to  every  rule. 

LORD  MARLOW  (looking  up  to  the  ceiling  in 
scandalised  protest}  :  Service !  service !  Hear  him, 
ye  gods!  This  is  the  rights  of  the  individual; 

31 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

the  independence  of  the  unit ;  the  perfect  equality 
of  one  human  being-  before  another! 

CICELY  SEYMOUR  (looks  over  his  shoulder  at 
him  and  remarks  slightingly)  :  You  are  a  great 
tease,  Lord  Marlow.  You  make  me  think  I  am 
in  the  schoolroom  at  Al  fret  on  with  my  brothers 
home  from  Eton  for  Christmas.  Do  you  really 
think  that  chaffing  is  wit? 

LORD  MARLOW:  I  am  not  chaffing,  Miss  Sey- 
mour. I  am  in  deadly  earnest.  This  modest 
bunch  must  hold  a  deal  of  meaning.  Who  are 
the  Brown  family?  Where  is  "our  place"? 
What  is  the  meeting  that  must  be  postponed  be- 
cause a  bloated  aristocrat,  rolling  in  ill-gotten 
wealth,  requires  that  corrupting  luxury  known  as 
mustard  and  cress? 

(Everybody  laughs,  except  CICELY  SEYMOUR  and 
BERTRAM.) 

LADY  SOUTHWOLD:  Yes,  Wilfred,  who  are  the 
Brown  family? 

LORD  SOUTHWOLD:  To  whom  you  are  always 
at  home. 

LORD  MARLOW:  And  Annie  sends  buttonholes 
with  love. 

BERTRAM  (with  icy  brevity)  :  A  perfectly  re- 
spectable young  woman. 

LORD  MARLOW:  And  the  respectable  one's  ad- 
dress? Where  is  "our  place"?  I  am  seized 
with  an  irresistible  longing  to  eat  mustard  and 
cress.  I  never  did  eat  it  but  still 

BERTRAM  (eying  him  very  disagreeably)  : 
The  Browns  are  persons  I  esteem.  I  should  not 

32 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

give  their  address  to  persons  whom  I  did  not 
esteem. 

LADY  SOUTHWOLD:  My  dear  Wilfred!  How 
Socialism  does  sour  the  temper. 

BERTRAM  :  Temper !  I  hope  I  have  too  much 
philosophy  to  allow  my  temper  to  be  ruffled  by 
the  clumsy  horse-jokes  of  my  acquaintances. 

LADY  SOUTHWOLD:  But  why  are  you  always 
at  home  to  these  Browns  ? 

(BERTRAM  hesitates.) 

LADY  SOUTHWOLD  (persistently) :  Are  they 
acolytes?  studies?  pensioners? 

LORD  MARLOW  :  Is  the  respectable  one  pretty  ? 
Respectable  ones  so  rarely  are!  (He  takes  the 
inolets  off  the  cloisonne  plate.)  A  buttonhole  to 
be  worn  in  Hoxton  Theatre?  It  is  an  emblem 
of  the  immortality  of  finance;  for  its  commercial 
value  must  be  at  least  four  farthings.  If  my 
Waterbury  watch  offend  the  eye  of  eternal  jus- 
tice, this  penny  bunch  must  outrage  it  no  less. 

CICELY  SEYMOUR:  It  is  quite  natural,  I  think, 
that  Mr.  Bertram  should  have  many  friends  in 
those  classes  he  considers  so  superior  to  his  own. 
BERTRAM  (interrupting)  :  I  do  not  say  any 
class  is  superior  to  any  other.  I  say  that  all  are 
equal. 

(There  is  now  a  great  buzz  of  voices  as  people 
rise  and  begin  to  bid  one  another  adieu. 
LADY  SOUTHWOLD  remains  seated  and  be- 
gins to  nibble  a  caviare  sandwich.  She  is 
still  curious  about  the  socialist  views  of  her 
nephew. ) 

LADY  SOUTHWOLD:  Do  you  mean  to  say,  Wil- 
33 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

fred,  that  anybody  would  pay  taxes  if  they  were 
not  obliged? 

BERTRAM  :  Do  not  people,  urged  by  conscience, 
send  arrears,  unasked,  to  the  Chancellor  of  the 
Exchequer  ? 

LADY  SOUTHWOLD:  Well,  they  do  certainly 
now  and  then.  But  they  must  be  very  oddly  con- 
stituted people. 

BERTRAM:  Is  conscience  an  eccentricity? 

LADY  SOUTHWOLD  (shaking  her  head)  :  I  can't 
believe  anybody  would  pay  taxes  if  they  weren't 
obliged. 

BERTRAM  :  But  they  do.  There  are  these  in- 
stances in  the  papers.  If  moral  feeling  in  the 
public  were  acute  and  universal,  as  it  ought  to  be, 
every  public  duty  would  be  fulfilled  with  prompti- 
tude and  without  pressure. 

THE  DUKE  (nodding  very  expressively}  : 
Your  aunt's  right,  conscience-money  can  only 
come  from  cranks. 

LADY  SOUTHWOLD:  Come  and  dine  with  us, 
Wilfred.  We  never  see  you  now.  I  assure  you 
a  good  dinner  changes  the  color  of  political  opin- 
ions to  a  wonderful  degree.  I  am  dreadfully 
afraid  that  you  are  living  on  boiled  soles  and 
carrot  fritters. 

BERTRAM  (smiling  slightly)  :  The  carrot  frit- 
ters. I  am  a  vegetarian. 

LORD  SOUTHWOLD:  But  we  are  justified  in  be- 
ing carnivorous.  Individualism  justifies  us. 

BERTRAM   (with  uncivil  sarcasm)  :  The  croco- 
dile has  a  right  to  its  appetites,  and  the  cur  to 
its  vomit.     Solomon  said  so, 
34 


TA     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

LORD  SOUTHWOLD:  Am  I  a  crocodile  or  a  cur? 

LORD  MARLOW  :  Do  you  keep  Critchett  on  car- 
rot fritters?  And  what  does  he  have  to  drink? 
Hot  water  is,  I  believe,  the  beverage  which  ac- 
companies high  thinking. 

LADY  JANE  RIVAUX:  And  how  do  you  recon- 
cile your  conscience  and  your  creeds  to  keeping 
Critchett  at  all  ? 

BERTRAM  (with  distant  chilliness  and  proud 
humility)  :  The  leaven  of  long  habit  is  hard  to 
get  rid  of;  I  entirely  agree  with  you  that  I  am  in. 
the  wrong.  To  have  a  servant  at  all  is  an  offense 
to  humanity ;  it  is  an  impertinence  to  the  brother- 
hood of  our  common  mortality. 

LORD  SOUTHWOLD  (grimly')  :  Our  brothers 
and  sisters  in  the  servants'  halls  pay  us  for  the 
outrage ;  they  take  away  our  characters,  read  our 
correspondence,  and  pocket  twenty  per  cent,  on 
all  our  bills. 

BERTRAM:  Can  you  blame  them?  They  are 
the  product  of  a  corrupt  society.  No  one  can 
blame  them,  whatever  they  do.  The  dunghill 
cannot  bring  forth  the  rose.  Your  service  has 
debased  them.  The  fault  of  their  debasement 
lies  with  you. 

LORD  MARLOW:  But  Critchett  cannot  be  de- 
based. He  must,  living  in  so  rarefied  a  moral 
atmosphere,  be  elevated  above  all  mortal  weak- 
nesses. 

BERTRAM  (stiffly}  :  I  can  assure  you  I  have 
more  respect  for  Critchett  than  for  any  member 
of  a  St.  James'  Club. 

35 


'A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

LADY  SOUTHWOLD:  And  yet  you  give  him  car- 
rot fritters. 

BERTRAM  (irritated)  :  He  eats  whatever  he 
pleases,  turtle  and  turbot  for  aught  I  know.  I 
should  never  presume  to  impose  on  him  either  my 
menu  or  my  tenets,  my  beliefs  or  my  principles. 
LADY  SOUTHWOLD:  You  do  wisely  to  keep 
him.  I  hope  you  zvill  keep  him.  He  is  your 
only  link  to  civilized  life. 

BERTRAM  (smiles')  :  My  dear  aunt,  when  I  was 
in  the  South  Pacific,  I  landed  at  a  small  island 
where  civilization  was  considered  to  consist  in 
a  pierced  nose  and  a  swollen  belly.  I  do  not 
want  to  be  offensive,  but  the  estimate  which  my 
age  takes  of  its  own  civilization  is  not  very  much 
more  sensible. 

LADY  SOUTHWOLD:  I  think  it  would  have  been 
better,  Wilfred,  to  study  psychology  under  these 
savages  than  to  publish  the  Age  to  Come!  You 

could  not  have  injured  them,  but  here 

CICELY  SEYMOUR  :  How  illiberal  you  are,  dear 
Lady  Southwold.  You  want  a  course  of  Mon- 
taigne. 

LORD  MARLOW:  What  is  that,  Miss  Seymour? 
A  rival  to  Mariani  wine? 

CICELY  SEYMOUR:  Yes,  a  French  wine;  very 
old  and  quite  unequalled. 

(Even  BERTRAM  laughs.     MARLOW  is  irritated. 

He  does  not  see  zvhat  he  has  said  which  is 

so  absurd,  or  why  his  friends  are  laughing.') 

LORD   MARLOW    (muttering   aside   to    CICELY 

SEYMOUR)  :  Why  do  you  always  take  that  prig's 

part? 

36 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

CICELY  SEYMOUR  :  I  do  not  take  any  one's 
part,  but  I  detest  injustice  and  iliiberality. 
(At  this  moment  the  old  DUKE  rises  with  BER- 
TRAM'S help,  is  assisted  by  him  to  find  his 
Jiat  and  takes  his  departure,  assuring  his 
godson  that  he  has  been  much  entertained. 
Others  do  the  same.  CICELY  SEYMOUR  says 
simply  and  very  gently  to  BERTRAM  that  she 
is  his  debtor  for  many  noble  thoughts. 
When  all  are  gone  BERTRAM  ivalks  up  and 
down  the  room  dissatisfied  with  himself. 
Presently  he  stops  midway  and  bursts  out 
impatiently :) 

BERTRAM  :  What  a  coward  I  am !  What  a  mis- 
erable, beastly  poltroon !  Why  could  I  not  say  to 
a  few  people  drinking  tea  in  my  rooms  "my  good 
folks,  I  am  going  to  marry  Annie  Brown" — in- 
stead of  referring  to  her  as.  "a  perfectly  respect- 
able young  woman"?  .  .  .  What  would  my 
aunt  have  done  ?  What  would  that  grinning  Mar- 
low  have  said?  What  would  Cicely  Seymour 
have  thought?  .  .  .  There  you  have  it  in  plain 
English  !  I  was  the  slave  of  opinion  like  everybody 
else.  I  was  afraid  of  a  set  of  fools  who  are  caper- 
ing on  their  primrose  path  seeing  nothing'  of  the 
abyss  to  which  it  leads.  .  .  .  Ah,  yes,  true  it  is 
the  times  are  out  of  joint  but  evidently  /  was  not 
born  to  set  them  right.  Heaven  makes  but  small 
use  of  cowards! 

(Shrugging  his  shoulders  and  sighing  deeply, 
BERTRAM  throws  himself  into  a  deep  chair 
and  lights  a  cigarette.) 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

SCENE    II. — BERTRAM    is    seated    at    his    desk 
in    his    library,    preparing    an    article    for 
his  paper  "Age  to   Come."    The  editor  of 
the  "Torch"  MR.  FANSHAWE,  a  gentleman 
of  no  definite  age,  with  a  shreivd  counte- 
nance  and  a  significant  smile,   crosses  the 
room  with  outstretched  hand. 
FANSHAWE:  My  dear  Wilfred,  they  tell  me 
you  are  in  a  wax  about  the  exceptions  I  took  to 
your  article.     I  am  extremely  sorry  to  touch  a 
single  line  of  yours,  but  the  public  must  be  con- 
sidered, you  know.    You  are  miles  too  advanced 

for 

BERTRAM  (stiffly)  :  Do  not  trouble  yourself; 
I  shall  publish  it  in  the  Age  to  Come. 

FANSHAWE:  Oh,  that  is  a  pity;  that  will  be 
practically  putting  it  in  the  waste-paper  basket. 
Excuse  my  saying  so,  but  you  know  the  circula- 
tion of  the  Age  to  Come  is  at  present — is — well 
— limited. 

BERTRAM  (sarcastically)  :  We  certainly  do  not 
chronicle  the  scandals  of  the  hunting-field,  and 
devote  columns  to  prophesying  the  shape  of  next 
year's  bonnets,  as  the  Torch  does ! 

FANSHAWE:  That  shows  you  don't  under- 
stand your  public  or  don't  want  to  secure  one. 
Extreme  opinions,  my  dear  boy,  can  only  be  got 
down  the  throats  of  the  world  in  a  weekly  jour- 
nal by  being  adroitly  sandwiched  between  the 
caviare  of  calumny  and  the  butter  of  fashion. 
People  hate  to  be  made  to  think,  my  dear  boy. 
The  Age  to  Come  gives  'em  nothing  but  think- 
ing; and  damned  tough  thinking  too.  You  write 
38 


'A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

with  uncommon  power,  but  you  are  too  whole- 
sale, too  subversive ;  you  scare  people  so  awfully 
that  they  stop  their  ears  to  your  truths.  That 
is  not  the  way  to  secure  a  hearing.  (FANSHAWE 
seats  himself  in  the  easiest  chair  in  the  room  not 
far  from  where  BERTRAM  is  seated.) 

BERTRAM   (doggedly)  :  I  am  consistent. 

FANSHAWE:  Oh,  Lord!  Never  be  consistent. 
There's  nothing  so  unpopular  in  life. 

BERTRAM  :  I  despise  popularity. 

FANSHAWE:  You  despise  bread  and  butter.  I 
believe  you  lose  twenty  pounds  a  month  by  your 
Age  to  Come. 

BERTRAM  (bitterly)  :  To  speak  correctly,  it 
gets  me  into  debt  to  that  amount. 

FANSHAWE:  Heaven  and  earth!  Why  don't 
you  dr«p  it? 

BERTRAM  :  It  is  a  matter  of  principle. 

FANSHAWE  :  Principle  which  will  land  you  in 
Queer  Street.  Now,  my  dear  Wilfred,  no  man 
thinks  more  things  bosh  than  I  do,  or  takes  more 
pleasure  in  saying  so,  but  I  combine  pleasure  with 
business;  I  say  my  say  in  such  a  way  that  it 
brings  me  in  eighty  per  cent. 

BERTRAM  (looking  at  him  derisively)  :  I  have 
always  known  that  your  intellect  was  only 
equalled  by  your  venality. 

FANSHAWE  (laughs  good-hwnoredly)  :  That 
is  neat.  That  is  soothing.  It  is  not  difficult  to 
understand  that  you  are  not  considered  a  club- 
able  man !  However,  as  you  credit  me  with  in- 
tellect, I  don't  mind  your  denying  me  morality. 
But  seriously,  my  dear  friend,  you  are  much  too 

39 


'A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

violent,  too  uncompromising  for  success  in  jour- 
nalism. Who  tries  to  prove  too  much  fails  to 
prove  anything,  and  when  you  bend  you  bow  too 
violently  it  snaps  and  speeds  no  arrow.  I  confess 
that  I  (who  am  as  revolutionary  as  most  people 
and  always  disposed  to  agree  with  you),  do  fre- 
quently get  up  from  the  perusal  of  one  of  your 
articles  with  the  unwilling  conviction  that  it  is 
best  to  let  the  old  order  of  things  alone.  Now, 
that  is  certainly  not  the  condition  of  mind  which 
you  wish  to  produce  in  your  readers. 

BERTRAM  (after  a  pause}  :  What  do  you  advo- 
cate then?  A  cautious  trimming? 

FANSHAWE:  Trimming  was  the  name  which 
the  eighteenth  century  politician  gave  to  what 
we  now  call  opportunism.  All  sagacious  men  are 
not  opportunists,  but  all  sagacious  men  endeavor 
to  create  supporters,  not  antagonists.  Now,  all 
violent  assertions  raise  opposition,  for  human  na- 
ture is  cantankerous  and  contradictory. 
(CRITCHETT  enters  and  hands  a  card  on  a 
salver.} 

CRITCHETT  :  If  you  please,  sir,  the  gentleman's 
waiting  below ;  says  he  sent  you  a  letter  two 
days  ago;  gentleman's  head  of  the  firm  of  Fol- 
liott  &  Hake,  sir. 

BERTRAM  (looking  vaguely  about  the  room)  : 
There  are  a  good  many  letters  unopened.  I  won- 
der which  it  is. 

FANSHAWE  (catches  up  a  pile  of  letters  from 
a  table  and  sorts  them}  :  Here's  one  with  "Fol- 
liott  &  Hake"  on  the  seal;  how  unpractical  you 
are,  my  dear  boy ! 

40 


'A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

BERTRAM  (taking  the  letter  and  looking  at  it 
without  curiosity)  :  It  is  sure  to  be  something  un- 
pleasant. I  never  heard  of  Folliott  &  Hake. 

FANSHAWE  (laughs):  I  have;  many  a  time. 
They  have  been  solicitors  in  more  than  one  libel 
case,  of  which  the  Torch  was  defendant.  Come, 
open  the  letter.  See  what  it  says. 

BERTRAM  (opens  and  reads  it)  :  Only  that  they 
have  a  matter  of  great  importance  to  communi- 
cate to  me.  I  really  have  no  idea  what  it  can  be. 
People  think  so  many  things  are  important  which 
are  of  infinitesimal  insignificance. 

FANSHAWE:  You  will  correct  your  ignorance 
by  allowing  Mr.  Folliott  to  enter  and  explain 
himself. 

BERTRAM  :  I  am  so  opposed  to  all  lawyers  on 
principle. 

FANSHAWE:  So  am  I,  as  I  am  opposed  to 
smallpox,  or  bicycle  riders,  or  yellow  fogs ;  but 
they  are  not  to  be  avoided  in  this  life,  and  it  is 
neither  polite  or  politic  to  keep  these  highly  re- 
spectable solicitors  waiting  like  sweeps.  Crit- 
chett,  beg  Mr.  Folliott  to  enter.  I  will  leave  you, 
Bertram. 

BERTRAM  :  No,  no ;  for  goodness'  sake  stay. 
I  may  want  some  advice. 

FANSHAWE:  You  not  unfrequently  do.     But 

you  never  follow  it  when  given.     Pray,  be  civil. 

(A  few  moments  later,  MR.  FOLLIOTT  enters;  a 

bland,  white-haired,  portly  old  gentleman,  a 

little  ruffled  at  having  been  left  so  long  at 

the  foot  of  the  stairs.) 

BERTRAM  :   I   beg  your   pardon    Mr. — Mr. — 

41 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

Folliott  (glancing  at  the  letter)  ;  I  had,  in  fact, 
not  opened  this  note  of  yours.  It  is  a  bad  habit 
I  have  of  leaving  letters  unread. 

FOLLIOTT:  It  was  Sheridan's,  sir.  It  did  not 
bring  him  good  fortune. 

(As  CRITCHETT  seats  the  lawyer  he  catches  sight 
of  FANSHAWE,  and  his  amiable  countenance 
assumes  the  startled  and  displeased  expres- 
sion of  a  cat's  face  when  the  cat  suddenly 
perceives  a  bull  terrier.) 

FOLLIOTT  (in  an  affronted  manner)  :  I  natu- 
rally awaited  you  all  day,  Mr.  Bertram,  or  a  com- 
munication from  you.  Hearing  nothing,  I 
thought  best  to  come  myself.  You  are  perhaps 
unaware  the  Prince  of  Viana  is  dead. 

BERTRAM  :  I  never  heard  of  the  individual. 
Who  was  he? 

FOLLIOTT  :  He  was  your  first  cousin.  You  may 
know  him  better  as  the  son  of  Mr.  Horace  Er- 
rington. 

BERTRAM  :  Oh !  The  son  of  my  mother's 
brother?  We  never  knew  him.  There  was  a 
family  feud. 

FOLLIOTT:  But  you  will  remember  to  have 
heard  that  his  father  made  great  wealth  in  the 
Abruzzi  through  copper  mines,  was  nationalized 
and  was  ennobled  by  Victor  Emmanuel.  The 
family  feud  was  chiefly  on  account  of  his  con- 
nection with  commerce  and  his  change  of  coun- 
try. 

BERTRAM  :  Precisely. 

FOLLIOTT:  I  regret  to  inform  you  that  your 
cousin  is  dead,  at  thirty-three  years  of  age,  killed 
42 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

by  a  wild  boar  when  hunting  in  the  Pontine 
marshes;  he  has  left  you,  Mr.  Bertram,  his  sole 
and  exclusive  heir. 

BERTRAM    (highly    astonished):    What!    you 
must  be  joking,  Mr.  Folliott! 
(The  old  gentleman  takes  off  his  gold  spectacles 
and  puts  them  on  again  in  extreme  irrita- 
tion. ) 

FOLLIOTT:  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  joking,  sir, 
either  in  business  or  out  of  it.  We  were  so- 
licitors to  his  father  and  to  himself.  We  drew 
up  this  will  five  years  ago.  You  are  inheritor 
to  an  immense  fortune,  Mr.  Bertram. 

BERTRAM  (staring  at  him — then  turns  to  FAN- 
SHAWE)  :  Do  you  hear?  Is  it  true?  Surely,  no 
one  could  insult  me  so  greatly,  even  in  jest? 

FOLLIOTT:  I  really  do  not  understand  what  in- 
sult there  can  be?  I  am  speaking  in  sober  earn- 
est. 

FANSHAWE  (derisively)  :  Shall  I  fan  you, 
Wilfred?  or  send  for  some  sal  volatile?  (In  a 
whisper)  Don't  be  an  ass.  This  sensible  old  fel- 
low will  think  it  his  duty  to  shut  you  up  in  a 
private  madhouse,  if  you  talk  like  that.  Pull 
yourself  together,  and  answer  him  sensibly. 

FOLLIOTT  (surveying  the  speaker  as  a  timid 
person  may  look  at  a  lion  riding  on  a  velocipede 
in  a  circus-ring)  :  If  Mr.  Bertram  would  place 
me  in  communication  with  his  solicitor  matters 
would  be  facilitated. 

BERTRAM  :  I  have  no  solicitors.     If  you  will 
pardon  what  may  seem  an  offensive  opinion,  I 
regard  all  men   of  law   as   poisonous  parasites 
43 


'A     PREM'ATURE     SOCIALIST 

growing  on  the  rotten  trunk  of  society,  which  has 
the  axe  of  retribution  laid  at  its  roots. 

FOLLIOTT  (too  astonished  to  be  offended}  :  I 
fail  to  follow  you,  sir,  but  I -have  no  doubt  you 
mean  something  very  profound.  Your  cousin 
did  not,  I  imagine,  read  your  articles  in  the  re- 
views, but  I  have  read  one  or  two  of  them.  How- 
ever, notwithstanding  your  extraordinary  opin- 
ions, you  are  a  man  of  birth  and  breeding,  and 
must,  in  a  measure,  be  a  man  of  the  world,  sir; 
you  must  know  that  you  must  allow  me  to  ful- 
fill my  office.  This  will  has  to  be  proved  and 
probate  taken  out. 

BERTRAM:  Where  is  the  necessity? 

FOLLIOTT:  Be  so  good  as  not  to  play  with  me. 
You  must  accept  the  inheritance  or  decline  it.  In 
the  event  of  your  refusal,  of  your  formal  and  final 
refusal,  the  whole  of  this  property  is  to  go  to  the 
testator's  old  college  at  Oxford — Magdalen  Col- 
lege. 

BERTRAM  :  Ah !  that  is  a  consolation. 

FOLLIOTT:  Why  so,  sir? 

BERTRAM  :  Because,  although  I  have  no  sym- 
pathy with  the  modern  movements  at  Oxford, 
and  consider  that  she  has  fallen  away  from  her 
original  high  mission,  yet  she  is  and  always  will 
be  a  seat  of  learning;  and  the  Humanities  will 
never  wholly  be  banished  from  her  halls. 

FOLLIOTT  :  Again  I  fail  to  follow  you,  sir. 

BERTRAM  :  I  mean  that  such  an  alternative 
destination  for  the  property  will  enable  me  to 
decline  it  with  a  clear  conscience. 


44 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

FOLLIOTT  (looking  very  puzzled)  :  Really,  sir, 
your  replies  are  wholly  unintelligible. 

BERTRAM  (turning  helplessly  to  FANSHAWE)  : 
Explain  to  this  gentleman  my  views  regarding 
property. 

FOLLIOTT  (sententiously) :  I  am  aware  of  some 
of  them,  sir. 

FANSHAWE:  You  read  the  Torch,  Mr.  Fol- 
liott,  don't  you? 

FOLLIOTT:  When  my  professional  duties  com- 
pel me,  sir. 

FANSHAWE:  But  the  Torch  is  milk  for  lambs, 
Mr.  Folliott,  beside  the  Age  to  Come. 
(The  solicitor  bows  with  an  expression  which  in- 
dicates that  he  -would  prefer  to  remain  unac- 
quainted with  the  "Age  to  Come.") 

FANSHAWE  :  But  pardon  me,  is  my  friend  here 
really  so  immensely  in  luck's  way? 

FOLLIOTT  :  He  inherits  under  the  Prince  of  Vi- 
ana's  will  all  the  properties,  both  English  and 
Italian. 

FANSHAWE:  And  they  are  very  large? 

FOLLIOTT:  Very  large.  My  late  client  was  an 
only  son,  and,  though  generous,  never  spend- 
thrift. 

^ANSHAWE  (touching  BERTRAM'S  arm)  : 
Wake  up,  Wilfred.  Do  you  hear?  Can't  you 
speak  ? 

BERTRAM  (wearily)  :  What  am  I  to  say?  It  is 
an  unspeakably  awful  thing.  I  really  cannot 
bring  myself  to  believe  in  it. 

FOLLIOTT:  If  you  will  allow  me  to  make  you 

45 


A     PREMATURE     S  0  C  I'ALI  ST 

acquainted  with  some  of  the  details  of  the 

BERTRAM  :  To  what  end  ?  Do  the  items  of  the 
pack  interest  the  packhorse  to  whose  aching  back 
the  burden  is  offered? 

FOLLIOTT:  Again  I  fail  to  follow  you. 

FANSHAWE  :  To  follow  him  requires  a  long 
course  of  patient  perusal  of  the  Age  to  Come. 

FOLLIOTT  (in  a  tone  which  intimates  that  he 
will  not  have  that  patience}  :  Quite  so,  quite  so. 
I  have  never  seen  the  announcement  of  an  in- 
heritance received  in  such  a  manner. 

BERTRAM  :  But  why  did  this  relative,  whom  I 
never  knew,  leave  his  property  to  me? 

FOLLIOTT:  I  cannot  tell,  sir.  It  was  certainly 
not  by  the  advice  of  our  firm. 

BERTRAM  :  Are  there  any  conditions  attached 
to  this  extraordinary  bequest? 

FOLLIOTT:  None,  sir.  You  can  realize  at  once 
and  invest  everything  in  dynamite  and  pyretic 
acid.  ( The  lazvyer's  glance  was  full  of  dynamite 
as  he  finished  speaking.} 

BERTRAM  :  Oh,  my  dear  sir !  Can  you  fall 
into  the  vulgar  error  of  confounding  socialism 
with  anarchy?  They  are  as  far  apart  as  the 
poles.  One  is  love :  the  other  hatred. 

FOLLIOTT:  I  confess,  sir,  that  such  love  nau- 
seates me.  I  prefer  of  the  two  hatred.  But  I 
am  an  old-fashioned  person,  and  I  know  little  of 
literature  later  than  the  'Sixties. 

BERTRAM  (with  disgust}  :  A  most  debased 
period  in  every  form  of  production. 

FOLLIOTT:  ft  may  be  so.    Macaulay  was  alive 

46 


'A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

in  it  and  Tennyson.  But  I  am  not  here  to  dis- 
cuss the  characteristics  of  generations.  I  came 
to  inform  you  of  an  event  which  I  immaturely 
concluded  would  appear  to  you  both  important 
and  agreeable. 

BERTRAM  :  You  did  not  know  me,  my  dear 
sir. 

FOLLIOTT  :  I  did  not,  sir. 

(With  a  little  cough  and  a  little  stately  bow  the 
old  gentleman  prepares  to  leave,  with  the 
cat's  glance  at  the  bull  terrier  still  more 
hostile  and  more  scared.) 

FOLLIOTT  :  You  will  be  so  good  as  to  call  on  us 
to-morrow  morning,  sir,  or  to  send  a  representa- 
tive authorized  by  you.  You  must  be  aware 
that  the  law  requires  you  either  to  accept  the  be- 
quest or  decline  it. 

BERTRAM  :  I  am  criminal  if  I  accept :  I  may  be 
equally  criminal  if  I  reject  it. 

FOLLIOTT:  Again  I  fail  to  follow  you,  sir. 
But  of  course  you  are  your  own  master;  and  in 
the  event  of  your  failure  to  call  on  us  to-mor- 
row morning  you  will  be  so  g"ood  as  to  make  us 
acquainted  with  your  decisions  and  intentions. 

BERTRAM  :  I  will  send  Fanshawe. 
(The  solicitor  does  not  look   overjoyed  at  the 
promise,  but  bows  in  silence,  a  very  stiff  and 
formal  bow,  and  leaves  the  room  without 
more  words.) 

BERTRAM  (doubtfully)  :  I  am  afraid  I  was 
not  very  polite  to  him. 

FANSHAWE:  You  certainly  were  not.    I  think 


'A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

you  could  give  hints  to  Whistler  on  the  Gentle 
Art  of  Making  Enemies.  But  why  did  you  talk 
all  that  rot?  He  only  ridiculed  you  for  it. 

BERTRAM  (earnestly}  :  I  only  said  what  I 
meant. 

FANSHAWE:  You  mean  to  let  this  fortune  go 
to  Magdalen  College? 

BERTRAM  :  Unless  I  change  my  present  inten- 
tions very  completely. 

FANSHAWE  (bursts  out  indignantly} :  Oh 
Lord !  This  is  green  sickness,  moonstruck  mad- 
ness ;  Hamlet's  monomania  was  nothing  to  it. 
Are  you  absolutely  insensible  to  the  fact  that  you 
would  be  able  to  print  ten  million  of  copies  of 
the  Age  to  Come  every  week  and  distribute  them 
gratis  all  over  the  country  every  week? 

BERTRAM  (stanchly)  :  Even  that  alluring  pros- 
pect cannot  tempt  me.  My  acceptance  of  a  for- 
tune would  be  as  anomalous  as  Lord  Rosebery's 
creation  of  Peers.  Miserable  creatures  that  we 
are,  we  are  only  tolerably  respectable  so  long  as 
we  are  at  least  fairly  consistent. 

FANSHAWE  (in  disgust):  Oh  Lord  save  us! 
You  can't  possibly  be  serious. 

BERTRAM  :  I  speak  in  entire  sincerity. 

FANSHAWE:  A  very  dangerous  thing  to  do 
at  any  time.  People  have  such  a  shocking  habit 
of  taking  one  at  one's  word!  Old  Folliott  is 
very  shrewd,  too,  though  he's  Tory. 

BERTRAM  (petulantly)  :  What  is  his  shrewd- 
ness to  me? 

FANSHAWE:  Well,  if  you  retain  him  as  your 

48 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

business  man,  it  may  be  a  great  deal.  It  is  usual 
to  retain  the  testator's  solicitor,  when  they  are 
as  eminent  and  irreproachable  as  Folliott  & 
Hake. 

BERTRAM  (growing  impatient) :  Cannot  you 
understand?  I  do  not  take  this  property.  I  do 
not  dream  of  taking  it  for  a  single  instant ! 

FANSHAWE  (angry  and  astonished  beyond 
bound)  :  You  can't  be  such  a  transcendent  ass! 
Excuse  me,  but 

BERTRAM  (crestfallen)  :  I  should  have 
thought  you  would  have  looked  at  this  matter  as 
I  do. 

FANSHAWE:  Dear  boy,  all  property  ought  to 
be  abolished,  on  that  we  are  quite  agreed,  but 
whilst  it  still  exists  in  this  piggish  world  we  are 
bound  in  duty  to  ourselves  and  our  neighbors  to 
make  the  best  of  it,  and  get  as  much  as  we 
can! 

BERTRAM  (with  scorn)  :  Then  you  are  a  mere 
sham !  A  humbug !  A  hypocrite ! 

FANSHAWE:  You  mean  to  be  rude,  but  I  take 
no  offense.  Everybody  is  insincere  in  civilized 
countries. 

BERTRAM  (angrily}  :  What  an  infamous 
theory !  I  have  always  thought  that  your  house 
at  Prince's  Gate,  your  swell  garden  parties,  your 
blooded  horses,  and  all  the  rest  of  it,  were  ludi- 
crously out  of  keeping  with  your  political  and  lit- 
erary declarations  of  opinion. 

FANSHAWE:  Not  more  so  than  your  silver  tea- 
set  and  your  exemplary  Critchett  are  with  yours. 

49 


TA     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

Don't  let  us  quarrel,  at  least  not  until  to-morrow. 
I  want  to  see  more  of  old  Folliott.  He  is  one 
of  the  worst  enemies  I  have,  and  I  do  so  delight 
in  drawing  the  claws  of  an  enemy  with  my 
bland  manners.  Besides  I  owe  him  a  good  deal. 
The  Torch  was  in  its  infancy  when  he  made  its 
fortune  and  set  it  on  its  legs  by  his  libel  suits. 
Meet  me  in  Hyde  Park  at  eleven  to-morrow. 
I'll  come  out  of  my  house  through  Albert  Gate, 
and  we'll  go  down  to  his  office  together. 

BERTRAM  :  You  can  go  and  take  my  written  re- 
fusal with  you. 

(FANSHAWE  gives  a  gesture  of  irritated  impa- 
tience, and  looks  at  his  watch.) 

FANSHAWE:  La  nuit  porte  conseil.  You  will 
think  differently  in  the  morning.  I  am  dining 
at  Richmond.  I  can't  stay  another  moment,  but 
for  heaven's  sake,  take  till  to-morrow  to  think 
it  over.  Ta-ta! 

BERTRAM  :  Good-day. 

(FANSHAWE  passes  quickly  out  of  the  room.) 

BERTRAM  :  Critchett !  ( The  valet  approaches 
his  master,  feeling  that  some  trouble  is  impend- 
ing.) I  wish  you  to  sell  my  silver  tea-set  and 
pocket  the  proceeds.  It  will  be  necessary  for  you 
to  seek  a  new  place.  I  need  not  say  that  it  will 
be  painful  for  me  to  part  with  you,  but  a  man 
should  be  true  to  his  principles,  cost  what  it  may. 

CRITCHETT  :  But,  sir,  I  shall  have  to  be  a  serv- 
ant to  somebody.  I  like  you  best.  I  cannot 
bear  to  leave  you ! 

BERTRAM  :  Ah,  but  you  must.    It  will  be  easy 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

for  a  person  who  knows  his  business  as  well  as 
yon  do  yours  to  obtain  a  new  situation ;  and  there 
are  plenty  of  people  eager  to  make  servants  of 
their  fellow-creatures. 

(CRITCHETT  departs,  effusively  wiping  his  eyes 
with  his  handkerchief.  BERTRAM,  as  is  his 
custom  zvhen  agitated,  paces  his  room  with 
gloomy  looks  and  folded  arms.) 


at  o 


Art 


A    PREMATURE    SOCIALIST 


ACT  II. 

SCENE  I. — BERTRAM,  unable  to  sleep  all  night,  is 
walking  along  Rotten  Row  under  the  trees 
with  a  mind  so  preoccupied  that  he  narrowly 
escapes  being  knocked  down  by  an  ambas- 
sadress on  a  bicycle.  When  he  has  arrived 
opposite  the  Residential  Hotel — a  building 
eleven  stories  high — he  sits  dozvn,  feeling 
rather  limp  and  aimless;  and  lighting  a  cigar- 
ette, he  awaits  the  coming  of  FANSHAWE. 
There  is  a  policeman  close  at  hand;  some 
children  are  near,  with  their  nurses;  and  a 
respectable,  middle-aged,  brisk-looking  wo- 
man, with  some  fine  linen  in  a  basket,  is  ap- 
proaching. He  raises  his  hat  to  her. 
BERTRAM:  Is  that  you,  Mrs.  Brown?  I  never 
saw  you  in  the  park  before. 

MRS.  BROWN  :  No,  sir,  I  don't  often  come  nigh 
fine  folks,  but  I've  got  to  go  to  Prince's  Gate, 
number  fifteen,  and  I  turned  in  'ere,  'cos  the 
traffic's  that  crowded  on  'igh  road ;  'is  'ighness  is 
agoin'  down  to  'Ounslow. 

BERTRAM  :  Oh,  to  be  sure.  How  are  your  peo- 
ple this  morning? 

MRS.  BROWN  :  My  pore  legs,  sir,  be  as  bad  as 
ever— out  there,   we  pore   folks   can't  stop   for 
55 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

aches  and  pains,  or  we'd  never  do  naught  for  this 
'ere  world;  'twasn't  made  for  the  likes  of  us. 

BERTRAM  :  That  is  a  sad  reflection ;  but,  pray 
don't  say  "sir"  to  me. 

MRS.  BROWN  :  It  comes  natural,  sir.  I  hev 
allus  been  one  as  did  my  humble  duty  to  the 
quality. 

BERTRAM  :  Oh,  I  know !    It  is  this  terrible  ser- 
vility which  has  entered  like  blood-poisoning  into 
the  very  marrow  of  the  people. 
(The   policeman   standing  near   listening   grins 
behind  his  white-gloved  hand.} 

BERTRAM  (impatiently}  :  You  are  so  used  to 
stoop  and  cringe  that  you  have  lost  the  power 
to  stand  upright  when  you  are  invited  to  do 
so.  Where  is  your  daughter? 

MRS.  BROWN  :  Annie's  at  'Ealing,  sir.  It's 
Primrose  Day  to-morrow. 

BERTRAM  :  And  what  is  your  opinion  of  Prim- 
rose Day,  Mrs.  Brown? 

MRS.  BROWN  :  Well,  sir,  it's  got  'em  lots  o' 
votes,  but  it  do  seem  to  me  a  pack  o'  folly.  No 
offense. 

BERTRAM  :  And  the  Primrose  Dames,  Mrs. 
Brown  ? 

MRS.  BROWN  :  Well,  sir,  they're  a  pretty  spry 
lot  o'  ladies,  and  they  come  and  talk,  talk,  talk, 
and  me  at  the  mangle,  and  I  wish  'em  anywheres ; 
and  one  o'  'em  promised  to  have  my  kitchen 
boiler  looked  to,  but,  Lord!  that's  three  months 
ago  come  Monday  was  a  week,  and  nobody's 
come  to  the  boiler. 

BERTRAM  :   Both  the  Tories  and  the  Whigs, 
56 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

Prigs  and  Pigs,  always  forget  the  boilers:  and 
are  extremely  astonished  when  the  neglected 
boilers  blow  up. 

MRS.  BROWN  (hotly)  :  My  boiler  was  no  busi- 
ness o'  theirs,  but  if  they  said  they'd  send,  they 
hought  to  hev  sent.  But,  there!  that's  them 
ladies  all  over,  in  and  out,  and  to  and  fro,  and  it's 
how's  my  soul?  and  how's  my  dust  bin?  and  hev 
I  faith?  and  do  1  read  my  Bible?  and  am  I  an 
abstainer?  and  do  I  see  the  blessings  of  eddica- 
tion?  and  do  I  keep  my  sink  flushed?  and  do  I 
use  carbolic  acid?  Such  a  pack  o'  nonsense,  and 
in  they  comes  without  rappin',  and  if  they  see 
a  bit  of  dust  in  a  corner  'tis,  "Lord,  Mrs. 
Brown,  don't  ye  know  as  dust  is  microbes,  and 
microbes  is  sartain  death?"  And  I  says,  says 
I :  "No,  marm,  my  leddy,  my  granny  lived  to 
ninety-six,  and  on  her  ninetieth  birthday  she 
walked  four  miles  to  market  and  back,  and  she 
allus  said  to  all  o'  us  as  dust  was  wholesome, 
and  cobwebs  too,  and  shouldn't  be  interfered 

with 

(She  stops  out  of  breath,  and  the  listening  police- 
man smiles  again.) 

BERTRAM  :  People  were  more  robust  in  those 
days,  Mrs.  Brown. 

MRS.  BROWN  :  Yes,  sir ;  there  weren't  so  many 
doctors  all  over  the  place.  When  I  was  a  gal, 
in  our  village  there  weren't  a  doctor  within 
twenty  mile;  and  nobody  was  ever  ill.  Now- 
adays young  and  old  is  allus  talking  about  their 
livers  and  lights  till  they  fret  themselves  into 
sickness. 

57 


'A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

BERTRAM  :  That  is  very  possible.  Science  is 
much  to  blame  for  teaching  humanity  to  con- 
centrate the  mind  on  the  body.  There  I  wholly 
agree  with  you. 

(MRS.  BROWN  picks  up  her  load  of  linen,  which 
she  has  momentarily  rested  on  the  back  of 
a  bench.} 

MRS.  BROWN:  Well,  sir,  you'll  please  excuse 
me,  but  I  can't  stand  chattering  here.  We 
pore  has  got  our  work  to  do.  That's  what  I 
says  to  them  ladies  when  they  come  botherin'. 
I  say,  says  I :  "We  pore  has  our  work  to  do, 
and  when  'tis  done  we  want  to  sit  still,  and 
put  our  feet  up,  and  take  a  cup  o'  tea,  and  doze 
like;  we  don't  want  to  go  strammarkin'  about 
to  your  concerts,  and  your  readin's  and  your 
mother's  meetin's  and  all  them  rubbishes,  and 
see  a  duchess  playin'  a  banjo,  or  hear  a  duke 
sing  'Hot  Codlins.'  "  Let  'em  keep  in  their  place 
and  we'll  keep  in  ours.  That's  what  I  says,  sir, 
and  I  bring  up  my  children  to  say  it  arter  me. 

BERTRAM  (sadly}  :  Oh,  I  am  aware,  Mrs. 
Brown,  that  you  and  those  who  resemble  you,  are 
a  terrible  stumbling-block  to  progress. 

MRS.  BROWN  (pitifully)  :  Please  don't  call  me 
names,  sir.  I'm  a  pore  workin'  woman,  but 
I'm  one  as  hev  allus  kep'  my  head  above  water. 
You're  in  one  speer  and  I  in  another,  as  I  hev 
allus  told  ye,  but  all  the  same  I  choose  to  be  re- 
specket. 

BERTRAM  (very  earnestly)  :  My  dear  crea- 
ture, no  one  can  respect  you  more  profoundly 
than  I  do. 

58 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST. 

(But  MRS.  BROWN  is  not  appeased  by  this  as- 
sertion and  walks  aivay  in  high  dudgeon, 
There  is  meanwhile  a  great  noise  of  yell- 
ing and  shouting  in  the  distance  near  the 
statue  of  Achilles.} 

BERTRAM  (appealing  to  a  constable}  :  What 
are  they  doing? 

CONSTABLE  (touching  his  helmet)  :  Well,  sir, 
the  Salvationists  have  got  new  banners,  "Glory" 
on  one  side,  and  "Eternal  Fire"  on  the  other; 
and  the  pop'lace  don't  like  'em.  Pop'lace  very 
queer  and  touchy,  sir.  Never  knows  what  it 
wants. 

BERTRAM  :  That  is  a  hasty  condemnation  to 
pass  on  those  who  form  the  bulwarks  of  a  na- 
tion. 

CONSTABLE  (astonished)  :  Bulwarks  is  it,  sir? 
Not  when  they've  got  any  beer  in  'em. 
(The  uproar  in  the  distance  grows  loud  indeed; 
some  children  are  alarmed;  the  nurse  who 
is  with  them  asks  the  policeman  if  there  is 
any  danger  of  a  riot.) 

POLICEMAN  (cheerfully)  :  No  fear,  mum. 
They're  round  Hachilles ;  the  Salvationists  are  on 
one  side,  a  rum  chap  hollering  against  property 
on  the  other.  He's  one  o'  them  Socialists  and 
the  pop'lace  don't  cotton  to  the  ideas;  pop'lace 
likes  gentlefolks.  Lord!  see  'em  run  to  stare 
at  the  carriages  o'  Drawing-room  days ! 

BERTRAM  (dismally)  :  XVhat's  the  use  trying 
to  save  those  who  carry  their  own  fleeces  to  the 
shearers  ? 

POLICEMAN   (drily)  :  Some  on  'em  yell  a  lot 
59 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

of  revolutionary  nonsense  when  they  gets  in 
Trafalgar  Square,  but,  Lord  bless  ye,  they  don't 
mean  it. 

BERTRAM  (stoutly}  :  They  will  mean  it  one 
day. 

Policeman :  Well,  sir,  if  they  ever  run  short 
o'  liquor  on  account  of  them  total  habstainers, 
they  will. 

BERTRAM  (who,  in  the  "Age  to  Come"  advo- 
cates voluntary  total  abstinence,  sighs)  :  What 
a  view  of  the  sovereign  people! 

POLICEMAN:  Sovereign  is  it,  sir?  Ever  seen 
'em  o'  Derby  Day,  sir? 

BERTRAM    (curtly — since  he   believes   the  po- 
liceman to  be  a  satirist)  :  Yes. 
(In  sight  at  that  moment  appears  a  struggling 
form  being  violently  propelled  by  two  of- 
ficers of  the  law,  and  followed  by  some  yell- 
ing roughs  and  capering  boys.  BERTRAM  can- 
not believe  his  senses.) 

BERTRAM  (to  the  satirical  policeman)  :  Good 
gracious!  That  is  Hopper!  What  are  they  do- 
Ing  to  him?  Why  is  he  arrested? 

POLICEMAN  (politely  but  with  scarcely  veiled 
contempt)  :  Seem  to  be  running  him  in,  sir.  Is 
a  protegy  of  yours? 

BERTRAM  (going  up  to  the  prisoner)  :  Why, 
Hopper,  is  that  you?  (Turning  to  the  officers  of 
law)  What  has  he  done?  Why  do  you  collar 
him  like  that? 

CONSTABLE  (one  of  the  tivo  who  is  dragging 
HOPPER  along  replies  with  curt  contempt) : 

60 


'A     PREMATURE    SOCIALIST 

Disorderly ;  drunk  and  disorderly ;  that's  what  he 
is,  sir,  and  incitin'  to  crime. 

BERTRAM:  Drunk?  Hopper?  Impossible! 
He  has  touched  nothing  but  lemonade  and  min- 
eral water  for  three  years ! 

CONSTABLE:  Is  that  so,  sir?  Well,  there's  an 
excuse  for  him,  then,  poor  devil! 

(The  prisoner  whines  and  weeps.) 

HOPPER:  Is  that  you,  Mr.  Bertram?  You'll 
speak  for  a  pore  honest  man  (hie)  for  a  pore 
honest  man  (hie).  Not  a  drop  hev  Hopper  took 
(hie)  not  a  drop  (hie)  not  a  drop  (hie).  Hark 
'ee,  Mister  (hie)  Hopper  was  a-tellin'  folks 
(hie)  good-tidings  (hie)  proputty's  pison  (hie) 
proputty's  thievin'  (hie)  proputty's  root  of  all 
evil  (hie)  said  so  yourself  (hie).  Hopper  use 
your  werry  words  (hie).  And  Hopper's  run  in 
(hie)  and  ye  stand  there,  yah!  (hie).  Black- 
gud! 

BERTRAM  (sternly)  :  I  am  ashamed  of  you, 
Hopper!  But  (turning  to  the  constables')  if  you 
arrest  this  man  for  having  taken  stimulants,  I 
cannot  oppose  the  measure;  he  may  deserve  ar- 
rest; but  if  you  consider  him  guilty  because  he 
has  merely  striven  to  disseminate  the  doctrines 
which  I  myself  hold,  I  ought  in  common  justice 
to  accompany  him  and  be  locked  up  as  well. 

POLICEMAN  (with  the  satirical  vein  smiles 
rather  cynically')  :  Wall,  sir,  I  don't  say  as  you 
shouldn't,  but  we  can't  run  you  in,  sir ;  you  aren't 
disorderly. 

MARLOW   (who  is  sauntering  past,  stops  and 
laughs)  :  His  opinions  are  very  disorderly.   Half 
61 


'A     PREMATURE     S  0  C  I'A  L  I  S  T 

an  hour  in  Bow  Street  might  be  a  seasonable 
douche. 

HOPPER  (struggling  betiveen  the  two  con- 
stables who  have  him  by  the  collar,  calls  out  to 
BERTRAM)  :  Hi  there  (hie).  Won't  you  speak 
hup  for  an  'onest  man  (hie).  Kep'  me  on 
beastly  swills  (hie).  You  hev  kep'  promisin'  on 
me  as  'ow  I'd  live  in  Windsor  Castle  (hie)  and 
hev  ale  an'  gin  on  tap  all  day  (hie),  all  night 
(hie).  Promised  as  'ow  (hie),  promised  as  'ow 
(hie),  as  'ow  (hie). 

CONSTABLE  (to  other  constable)  :  Shut  up  his 
jaw !  Get  him  along  somehow.  We  can't 
waste  no  more  time. 

(They  go  doztm  the  road,  dragging  and  pushing 
HOPPER  ;  a  group^  of  small  boys  dancing  hi- 
lariously in  their  rear.  BERTRAM,  LORD 
MARLOW  and  the  satirical  policeman  follow 
slowly. ) 

BERTRAM  (to  policeman)  :  I  assure  you  he 
was  an  entirely  reformed  character  up  to  this 
moment. 

POLICEMAN  (with  conviction}  :  Aye,  they're 
allus  the  worst. 

MARLOW  (who  has  lingered  to  look  on  with 
great  enjoyment  of  the  scene)  :  Reformed  char- 
acters have  a  knack  of  backsliding.  Vice  is  mag- 
netic. Virtue  isn't — somehow. 

BERTRAM  (ignoring  him  and  continuing  to  ad- 
dress the  policeman)  :  I  suppose  I  can  witness 
on  his  behalf  in  the  police  court?  Get  him  out 
on  bail  ?  My  testimony  surely 

POLICEMAN  :  Well,  sir,  I'd  let  him  bide  if  I  was 
62 


'A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST, 

you.     Seven  days'll  do  him  a  world  o'  good. 
Wonderful  how  it  sobers  'em. 

(All  pass  out  of  sight.) 


SCENE  II. — BERTRAM  has  resumed  his  seat  in  the 
park,  and  is  still  waiting  for  FANSHAWE. 
In  another  part  of  the  park  are  CICELY  SEY- 
MOUR and  LADY  RIVAUX,  also  seated,  with 
LORD  MARLOW  standing  in  front  of  them. 

LORD  MARLOW  :  Oh,  Miss  Seymour,  such  a 
lark  down  there.  A  friend  of  Bertram's -run  in 
dead  drunk  by  the  police,  and  Bertram  preach- 
ing red  ruin  on  his  behalf.  On  my  word,  it's 
the  drollest  sight  I've  seen  for  many  a  day. 

CICELY  (annoyed)  :  It  must  be.  We  have  all 
of  us  a  number  of  friends  who  take  more  stimu- 
lants than  are  good  for  them,  but  they  are  care- 
ful to  be  in  the  sanctuary  of  their  own  houses 
or  in  their  clubs. 

MARLOW  (hurt)  :  How  you  do  pull  a  fellow 
up!  Of  course,  when  I  say  friend,  I  mean  a — • 
a — well,  one  of  his  monstrous  queer  acquaint- 
ances. He  lives  amongst  that  class. 

CICELY:  What  class? 

LORD  MARLOW:  Well,  the — mob  class — you 
know.  Folks  that  come  out  when  there's  riot 
and  smash  lamps  and  windows;  never  see  them 
any  other  time;  burrow,  I  suppose,  like  rab- 
bits. 

CICELY:  Darkest  London!  I  fear  the  lamps 
when  they  are  not  smashed  do  not  throw  much 
light  on  their  darkness. 

LADY  JANE  RIVAUX:  How  sententious  you 
63 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

are,  Cicely!    You  ought  to  marry  a  rising  poli- 
tician. 

LORD  MARLOW:  Bertram's  views  aren't  poli- 
tics, they're  red  ruin.  Red  ruin  to  himself,  too; 
he's  dropped  such  a  pot  o'  money  over  that  revo- 
lutionary journal  of  his  that  he'll  be  in  the  bank- 
ruptcy court  before  the  season's  over. 

CICELY  :  Has  he  borrowed  any  money  of  you  ? 

LORD  MARLOW:  Oh,  dear,  no;  I  didn't  mean 
to  imply 

CICELY:  Then  what  are  his  affairs  to  you? 

LORD  MARLOW  (confused}  :  Well,  I — I — don't 
know.  Mustn't  one  talk  of  one's  neighbors  ? 

CICELY  :  It  shows  great  poverty  of  mind  to 
speak  merely  of  people.  There  are  so  many 
other  subjects. 

(LORD  MARLOW  is  abashed.  He  knows  his  mind 
is  not  rich  according  to  her  ideas  of  intel- 
lectual wealth.) 

LORD  MARLOW  (hotly  and  crossly)  :  At  all 
events,  one  may  be  allowed  to  envy  such  a  prig 
the  good  luck  to  have  Miss  Seymour  for  a 
champion. 

LADY  JANE  RIVAUX:  He  is  a  prig,  you 
know,  and  I  am  sorry  it  makes  you  angry  when 
we  say  so. 

CICELY  (coldly)  :  I  dislike  all  injustice,  and  I 
do  not  consider  that  Mr.  Bertram  is  in  the  least 
done  justice  to  by  his  friends  and  relations.   How 
badly   every   one   treated   him   yesterday   in   re- 
turn for  a  most  learned  and  interesting  lecture. 
(While  CICELY  is  thus  defending  BERTRAM,  a 
young  woman  passes  by,  stopping  when  she 
64 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

reaches  the  seat  on  zt'hich  he  is  seated.    She 
wears  a  black  straw  hat,  a  black  jacket,  and 
a  grey  stuff  skirt.    SJie  has  two  baskets  filled 
with  primroses  and  covered  by  red  cotton 
handkerchiefs.      She    carries    one    on    each 
arm.     She  has  a  round,  fair,  freckled  face, 
a    sweet    and    cheerful    expression,    and    a 
fringe  of  naturally  curling  hair.     She  ap- 
proaches BERTRAM  smiling.) 
ANNIE  BROWN:  Oh,  gracious,  sir!  Don't  get 
up  for  the  likes  of  me.     Mother  told  me  as  how 
you  were  here  under  this  tree.     I  just  met  her 
by  the  Gate,  so  I  thought  I'd  come  and  have  a 
peep  at  you. 

BERTRAM  (distantly)  :  Thanks.  Don't  say  "as 
how,"  Annie.  You  are  heavily  laden  this  morn- 
ing. 

ANNIE  BROWN:  Oh,  no,  sir.  Primroses  are 
not  heavy.  They  have  no  roots,  but  they  make  a 
fine  show. 

BERTRAM  :  Like  the  party  of  which  they  are  an 
emblem. 

(ANNIE  smiles,  in  entire  ignorance  of  his  mean- 
ing, and  sits  doivn  by  him,  planting  her  bas- 
kets on  the  ground.) 

ANNIE  BROWN  :  These  aren't  good  flowers,  the 
rain's  spiled  'em.  They're  to  put  at  the  horses' 
ears.  Why  do  they  put  'em  at  the  horses'  ears, 
sir?  I  asked  a  groom  onst,  and  he  says,  says 
he,  it  means  that  when  our  party  come  back  to 
office  we'll  take  the  tax  off  the  horses.  Is  that  so, 
sir? 

BERTRAM:  They  are  not  only  at  the  horses' 

65 


'A    PREM'ATURE    SOCIALIST 

ears  but  at  the  asses'  buttonholes !   As  for  taxa- 
tion, it  is  the  ark  of  Toryism. 
(BERTRAM   is  irritated  that  ANNIE  has  seated 
herself  beside  him — evidently  to  remain  in- 
definitely.   She  begins  to  arrange  her  prim- 
roses in  bunches.) 

ANNIE  BROWN  :  What  had  you  said  to 
mother?  Her  back  was  quite  set  up  like. 

BERTRAM  :  Your  mother  is  the  most  estimable 
and  indefatigable  of  persons,  but  she  has  the 
taint  of  painfully  narrowed  and  archaic  views; 
she  persists  in  considering  herself  of  an  inferior 
class.  She  persists  in  speaking  of  "quality,"  by 
which  she  means  the  patrician  order,  as  some- 
thing superhuman  and  alien  to  herself.  It  dis- 
tresses me. 

ANNIE  BROWN  :  Oh,  yes !  Mother's  always  go- 
ing on  about  our  engagement.  She  says  as 
how 

BERTRAM  :  "As  how,"  again,  Annie ! 

ANNIE  BROWN:  Well,  sir,  that's  just  what 
my  mother  means.  You  speak  in  one  way  and  I 
in  another.  And  your  friends  will  laugh  at  my 
way  of  speaking,  sir;  they  certainly  will. 

BERTRAM  :  Let  them  laugh !  Besides  we  shall 
not  see  them,  Annie;  we  shall  live  wholly  apart 
from  them,  in  some  remote  spot  of  our  own. 

ANNIE  BROWN  (astonished) :  Out  of  Lon- 
don, sir? 

BERTRAM  :  Out  of  London  beyond  a  doubt.  Is 
that  any  subject  of  regret? 

ANNIE  BROWN  (sadly)  :  Well,  I  should  miss 
the  streets,  sir. 

66 


TA     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

BERTRAM  (irritated}:  Miss  the  streets!  Mer- 
ciful heavens !  To  what  a  pass  has  the  baneful 
disease  of  town  life  brought  a  pure  and  unsophis- 
ticated soul!  But  you  have  been  in  the  country 
this  morning  early — the  edge  of  the  country,  at 
any  rate.  Did  the  freshness,  the  silence,  the  fra- 
grance around  you  say  nothing  to  your  soul? 

ANNIE  BROWN:  Well,  no,  sir.  Where  the 
growers  are  you  don't  smell  much  else  but  ma- 
nure ;  and  there's  a  steam  pump  always  going  fit 
to  deafen  you. 

BERTRAM  :  Well,  well !  But  you  must  have 
seen  the  real  country.  I  have  myself  taken  you 
to  Bushey  and  Thames  Ditton.  Surely  you  must 
see  that  the  streets  are  the  quintessence  of  vul- 
garity, of  artificiality,  of  hideousness,  of  ludi- 
crous effort? 

ANNIE  BROWN:  If  they're  as  bad  as  that,  sir, 
why  do  all  the  great  ladies  stay  all  the  summer 
in  'em,  when  they  might  be  in  the  country?  Our 
little  street  ain't  much,  to  be  sure,  but  there's  a 
deal  of  neighborliness  in  it;  and  I'm  so  used  to 
listening  for  Sam's  growler  rattlin'  home  I  don't 
think  sleep  'ud  come  to  me  without  it. 

BERTRAM  (greatly  irritated)  :  We  really  can- 
not take  Sam  and  his  cab  into  our  wedded  life, 
and  why  will  you  say  '"sir,"  and  not  Wilfred? 

ANNIE  BROWN  (startled)  :  Your  Christian 
name  would  sound  so  cheeky,  sir.  I  couldn't 
bring  myself  to  say  it.  You're  so  different  to 
me,  sir.  That's  what  my  mother  allus  says: 
"Mr.  Bertram's  got  queer  notions,"  says  she; 
"but  he  was  born  of  the  quality,  and  quality  he'll 


'A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

be  till  he  die,  let  him  fuss  and  fad  and  fettle  as 
much  as  ever  he  likes." 

BERTRAM  (looking  uneasily  down  the  Mile}  : 
Won't  your  primroses  wither  in  the  sun? 

ANNIE  BROWN  :  No ;  there's  shade  o'  the  tree. 

BERTRAM  (to  himself)  :  How  shall  I  get  rid  of 
her  (Aloud}  :  Dear  Annie  if  you  won't  misun- 
derstand me,  I  think  we'd  better  not  be  seen  to- 
gether. Caesar's  wife — no,  I  don't  mean  that, 
I  mean  an  Englishman's  betrothed — in  fact,  you 
know  what  I  mean.  It  was  very  kind  of  you  to 
send  those  violets  yesterday,  but  it  was  a  mistake 
— my  rooms  were  full — people  laughed. 

ANNIE  BROWN  :  Oh,  Mr.  Bertram,  I  am  so 
sorry.  It  was  silly,  of  course,  now  I  think  of 
it.  (She  rises  and  takes  up  the  baskets.}  Mr. 
Bertram,  if  you  don't  like  to  be  seen  with  me 
settin'  on  this  bench,  however  will  you  stand 
being  seen  with  me  all  your  life? 

BERTRAM  (nervously}  :  You  don't  compre- 
hend. That  isn't  the  question  at  all.  I  don't 
want  people  to  say  coarse  and  rude  things  to 
you.  Of  my  wife  no  one  will  ever  dare  to  do 
so. 
(ANNIE  hangs  her  head  in  silence  for  a  minute.) 

ANNIE  BROWN:  Do  you  really  love  me,  sir? 
Mother  says  as  how  it's  all  moonshine. 

BERTRAM  :  I  dislike  the  word  love — what  I  feel 
for  you  is  respect,  esteem,  the  sweetness  of  ful- 
filled duty,  the  means  of  proving  to  the  world  the 
sincerity  of  my  sociology. 

ANNIE  BROWN  (sadly)  :  Yes,  sir.  You  told 
me  that  afore. 

68 


'A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

BERTRAM  :  Well,  what  better  sentiment  can 
you  desire?  Love  fills  lunatic  asylums,  divorce 
courts,  cemeteries,  heats  charcoal  braziers,  fires 
revolvers,  gives  human  life  to  fishes ;  but  such  a 
sentiment  as  I  have  for  you  purifies  society,  ad- 
vances civilization,  ensures  mutual  respect,  and 
eliminates  passion,  the  tyrant  of  man. 

ANNIE  BROWN  (with  her  head  down  and  in  a 
disappointed  voice)  :  Yes,  sir. 

BERTRAM  :  I  fear  you  are  a  sad  Philistine,  An- 
nie. 

ANNIE  BROWN  :  I  don't  know  what  that  is,  sir. 
I  daresay  it's  only  that  your  beautiful  talk's  too 
fine  for  me.  I  think  I'll  go  now.  I  didn't  ought 
to  have  dawdled  here.  (She  quickly  brushes 
away  some  tears  with  her  hand.) 

BERTRAM  (somezvhat  annoyed)  :  You  are  cry- 
ing, child. 

ANNIE  BROWN  :  Oh,  no,  sir.  (She  gets  up  and 
hurries  away.  MARLOW  approaches,  puts  his 
glass  in  his  eye,  and  gases  after  ANNIE  BROWN.) 

LORD  MARLOW  :  A  protegee?  Younger  than 
your  disciples  usually  are.  Ah,  to  be  sure !  That 
must  be  the  Annie  of  the  violets.  My  dear  Ber- 
tram, surely,  chivalry  should  suggest  that  we  car- 
ry the  baskets  for  her.  If  you  will  take  the  one,  I 
will  take  the  other. 

(BERTRAM  deigns  no  answer.  He  feels  consider- 
ably annoyed,  and  gazes  at  the  cupola  of  the 
hotel  near  him.  MARLOW  digs  holes  in  the 
gravel  with  his  cane.) 

LORD   MARLOW:   She's  got   a   smart   pair   of 
ankles;  rather  thick — but  why,  oh  why,  let  her 
69 


'A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

wear   highlows?     They   would   deform   a   god- 
dess. 

BERTRAM  (fiercely}  :  That  young  person  in 
highlows  is  my  future  wife.  You  will  be  so 
good  as  to  make  your  jokes  about  some  other 
matter  than  her  ankles. 

(MARLOW  stares,  utterly  incredulous  and  stupe- 
fied.) 

LORD  MARLOW:  Good  Lord!  You  can't  mean 
it!  Your  wife?  Why,  you  might  marry  Cicely 
Seymour  if  you  chose! 

BERTRAM  :  Be  so  good  as  to  understand  that  I 
shall  marry  a  daughter  of  the  people. 

LORD  MARLOW  :  Oh  Lord !  And  may  I  tell  so 
startling  a  piece  of  news? 

BERTRAM  :  You  may  tell  every  one.  The  of- 
fice of  bellman  to  society  is,  I  believe,  congenial 
to  you. 

LORD    MARLOW:    Eh?    Lord,    how    they    will 
laugh !   They'll  die  of  laughin'. 
(LORD  MARLOW  hastens  azvay  laughing  uproari- 
ously.    FANSHAWE  now  approaches  and  he, 
too,    fix<*s   his   eye-glass   on    the   retreating 
figure   of  ANNIE.      He   is   of  supernatural 
quickness  of  observation.) 

FANSHAWE  :  I  saw  you  from  my  bedroom  win- 
dow sitting  with  that  young  daughter  of  the 
sovereign  people.  I  wished  for  a  kodak.  The 
Torch  should  have  had  an  illuminated  Easter 
number. 

BERTRAM  (irritably)  :  You  are  fifty  minutes 
late. 

70 


'A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

FANSHAWE:  My  dressing-gown  and  choco- 
late pot  are  dear  to  me. 

BERTRAM  :  You  always  turn  night  into  day. 

FANSHAWE  :  Night  is  day  in  London,  as  coal 
and  electricity  are  its  summer.  Well,  shan't  we 
take  a  hansom  to  Folliott's? 

BERTRAM  :  Wait  a  moment.     Sit  down  here. 

FANSHAWE  (seating  himself  with  reluctance}  : 
Why  waste  time?  Let's  go  and  settle  your  in- 
heritance. 

BERTRAM  :  Please  go  instead  of  me  and  say 
that  I  refuse.  It  is  very  simple. 

FANSHAWE  :  My  dear  Bertram !  La  nuits  porte 
conseil,  and  yet  you  still  wish  to  refuse? 

BERTRAM  :  Yes,  I  refuse;  and (He  pauses, 

then  swallows  the  fishbone  desperately}   and — I 
am  going  to  marry  yonder  daughter  of  the  people ! 

FANSHAWE:  Ah!  Rumor  for  once  is  correct, 
then? 

BERTRAM  :  Yes,  I  marry  the  young  woman  you 
saw  when  you  wished  for  a  kodak. 
(For  once  FANSHAWE  has  not  a  word  to  say:  he 
is  dumb.) 

BERTRAM  :  You  look  astonished,  yet  with  your 
principles 

FANSHAWE  :  Principles  be  damned !  They 
must  go  to  the  wall  when  they  trample  on  com- 
mon sense. 

BERTRAM  (with  some  maliciousness)  :  But, 
surely  for  you  no  class  divisions  exist?  There- 
fore, of  course,  you  will  congratulate  me  as 
warmly  as  if  my  future  wife  were  that  abomi- 
nable thing,  a  duke's  daughter. 

71 


'A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

FANSHAWE  :  There  ought  to  be  no  race  horses, 
but  while  there  are  we  will  put  our  money  on 
them.  We  must  take  the  world  as  it  is  or  cut  our 
throats  in  it.  You  are  cutting  yours  with  a  bowie 
knife.  I  will  return  to  my  chocolate  pot. 
(At  that  instant  MRS.  BROWN  comes  down  the 
road  out  of  breath.  ANNIE  is  out  of  sight.} 

MRS.  BROWN  :  I  am  come  after  my  daughter, 
Mr.  Bertram,  if  you  please.  Soon  as  I  told  her 
ye  was  here,  I  was  that  mad  with  myself,  for 
it  flashed  across  me  she'd  come  and 

FANSHAWE:  And  why  not,  madam?  It  is, 
it  seems,  all  en  tout  bien,  tout  honneur. 

MRS.   BROWN  :   I   don't  understand  gibberish, 
sir,  but  girls  should  be  circumspec'. 
(FANSHAWE  gases  at  her  through  his  eye-glass.} 

FANSHAWE  (aside  to  BERTRAM):  Your 
mother-in-law  to  be? 

MRS.  BROWN  (not  hearing,  goes  on  in  a  rather 
shrill  tone}  :  I  don't  mean  my  daughter  to  walk 
along  with  you,  sir,  till  she's  the  right  to  take 
your  arm  before  everybody. 
(BERTRAM  shudders.  FANSHAWE  lifts  his  hat 
approvingly. ) 

FANSHAWE:  Those  sentiments  madam,  do  you 
the  highest  honor.  The  quality,  as  you  would 
call  them,  are  not  so  severe.  Their  young1  ladies 
sit  around  on  staircases,  and  flirt  in  corners  with 
their  young  men,  and  meet  them  in  these  sylvan 
groves  with  a  groom  as  chaperon,  without  any 
certainty  that  matrimony  will  ever  follow.  But 
then  the  demi  vierge  is  probably  confined  to  the 
Upper  Ten. 

72 


'A    PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

MRS.  BROWN  (doubtfully}  :  I  don't  know  about 
the  way  o'  the  gentry,  sir,  but  in  our  street  we're 
respectable,  though  we  are  back  o'  Portman 
Square. 

FANSHAWE:  Madam!  Juvenal  himself  never 
implied  anything  so  crushing!  Bertram,  I  ask 
you  again,  is  this  good  lady  about  to  be  your 
mother-in-law  ? 

BERTRAM  :  Don't  be  a  fool. 

FANSHAWE  :  Well,  dear  madam,  it  is  but  right 
that,  standing  in  this  future  relation  to  my 
friend,  you  should  know  this  fact :  Mr.  Bertram 
has  had  a  very  large  property  left  him. 

MRS.  BROWN  :  Lawk  a  mussy,  sir ! 

FANSHAWE:  But  he  is  inclined  to  refuse  it  on 
account  of  his  social  principles,  with  which,  no 
doubt,  you  are  acquainted.  Now,  dear  madam, 
tell  us  freely  your  opinion  as  a  person  of  sound 
common  sense  and  one  who  is  about  to  be  closely 
allied  to  him.  Should  he  refuse  it,  or  should  he 
accept  it? 

MRS.  BROWN  :  Dearie,  dearie,  sir !  How  can 
anybody  hev  left  good  money  to  such  a  gawk ! 

FANSHAWE  (laughing  aloud)  :  When  Truth 
comes  out  of  her  well  she  is  seldom  polite ! 
Never  mind,  Mrs.  Brown,  you  can  make  your 
peace  with  your  son-in-law  some  other  time. 
Only  tell  us  now,  for  we  are  going  to  the  lawyers 
on  this  momentous  errand.  Ought  he  to  accept 
or  to  refuse? 

(ANNIE'S  mother  is  flattered  at  the  deference  to 
her  opinion.) 

MRS.  BROWN:  Well,  sir,  it  ain't  for  the  like 
73 


A     PREMATURE     S  0  CI 'A  L  I  S  T 

o'  me  to  judge  for  the  likes  o'  you.  But,  if  ye 
want  my  plain  opinion,  it  is  this :  If  he  take  the 
proputty  he'll  look  silly.  But  if  he  don't  take 
it,  he'll  be  silly;  and  he'll  be  sorry  all  his  life. 

BERTRAM  :  Mrs.  Brown,  your  daughter  would 
not  say  so. 

MRS.  BROWN  :  Likely  not,  sir.  She's  a  slim 
snippet  of  a  girl  as  'even't  felt  any  o'  the  weight 
o'  livin'  yet.  When  she  hev  she'll  know  a  full 
money-box  is  the  softest  pillar  one  can  lay  a 
tired  head  on  any  night. 

FANSHAWE:  Mrs.  Brown,  the  classic  form  of 
Socrates  dwindles  before  yours !  I  place  you  im- 
mediately upon  the  staff  of  the  Torch. 

MRS.  BROWN  (puzzled}  :  I  don't  hold  with 
torches,  sir.  Sam's  link-boy,  last  week  in  a  great 
fog,  flourishing  one  about  like  a  fool,  set  fire 
to  all  the  straw — such  a  piece  of  work — and 
Sam  warn't  hinsured. 

FANSHAWE:  I  wince  under  the  moral  lesson 
you  convey  by  your  apologue  to  my  journal, 
but 

BERTRAM  (very  angrily)  :  How  much  more 
time  are  you  going  to  waste  in  chaffing  this 
woman  ? 

FANSHAWE  :  Mrs.  Brown,  your  lips  drop  pearls 
of  wisdom.  Yet  you  are  servile,  Mrs.  Brown. 
Are  we  not  all  equal  before  the  great  Bona  Dea 
of  Nature  ? 

MRS.  BROWN    (with  fine  scorn')  ;  Equal,  sir? 

That's  his  rot;  yet  when  he  come  to  our  place 

one  day,  and  we  was  eatin'  good  Dutch  cheese 

and  'errings,  he  well-nigh   fainted  at  the  stink 

74 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST. 

on  'em.  (FANSHAWE  laughs  delightedly.')  He 
lives  on  peaches  and  pineapples,  he  do  (with  a 
snort),  and  he's  spoilt  a  good  seasonable  chance 
o'  settlin'  herself  as  my  daughter  had  with  the 
young  man  round  the  corner 

BERTRAM  (so  angry  that  he  falls  into  low 
language)  :  Shut  up  that  jaw,  Fanshawe! 

FANSHAWE:  Will  you  go  to  Folliott  &  Hake's 
or  not? 

BERTRAM  :  I  will  go  to  Satan's  self  to  stop 
you  chaffing  this  woman.  Look  how  those  peo- 
ple are  laughing. 

(BERTRAM  says  a  hurried  good-morning  to  MRS. 
BROWN  and  hastens  away.  FANSHAWE  gets 
up  and  follozvs  him,  waving  his  hand  to  MRS. 
BROWN.) 

FANSHAWE  (calls  back  to  MRS.  BROWN)  : 
You  must  come  and  dine  with  me  at  Richmond, 
Mrs.  Socrates. 


SCENE  III. — CICELY  and  her  cousin,  LADY  JANE 
RIVAUX,  having  taken  a  fancy  to  the  settee 
lately  occupied  by  BERTRAM  and  FANSHAWE, 
are  seated  in  their  places  with  some  men 
standing  before  them,  talking  to  them. 
MARLOW  again  approaches,  diffident,  but  in 
ill-concealed  triumph. 

LORD  MARLOW:  Oh,  Lady  Jane,  I've  come 
back  'cos  I've  got  a  lot  of  news,  and  I  am  au- 
thorized to  tell  it.  I've  seen  "the  penny  bunch 
of  violets,"  and  by  all  that's  awful,  she's  a  wash- 
erwoman's daughter,  and  Bertram's  going  to 

75 


A     PREM'ATURE     SOCIALIST 

marry  her.     It's  Annieism,  you  see,  not  Altru- 
ism. 

(Much  pleased  with  his  own  wit  and  humor  he 
laughs  gleefully,  whilst  his  eyes  are  trying 
to  read  CICELY'S  face.  It  gives  no  sign  of 
any  feeling  or  of  having  even  heard  what 
he  has  said.) 

LADY  JANE  RIVAUX  :  What  nonsense  you  talk, 
Lord  Marlow !  Bertram  may  be  silly,  but  he  is 
not  so  utterly  out  of  his  mind  as  that. 

LORD  MARLOW:  Isn't  he?  Why,  he  told  me 
himself  not  more  than  an  hour  ago.  The  young 
woman  was  with  him  down  yonder.  She  sells 
flowers,  and  had  got  two  skips  full  of  primroses ; 
and  she's  not  a  good  feature  to  her  face.  I'll 
offer  to  be  best  man ;  shall  I  send  'em  a  set  of 
saucepans  or  a  sewing-machine?  ( CICELY  casts 
a  look  of  supreme  contempt  upon  him.) 

CICELY  SEYMOUR  :  The  perfection  to  which 
you  bring  your  jokes  must  have  cost  you  a  long 
apprenticeship  on  Bank  Holidays,  Lord  Alar- 
low. 

(MARLOW'S  mirth  is  a  little  subdued.) 

ONE  OF  THE  MEN  PRESENT:  You  can't  be 
speaking  seriously.  Bertram  is  not  quite  such 
an  ass  as  that. 

LORD  MARLOW:  I  am,  though.  I've  seen  the 
girl,  and  Bertram  told  me  to  tell  everybody. 

ANOTHER  OF  THE  MEN  PRESENT:  What's  her 
name? 

LORD  MARLOW  :  She's  Annie  Brown ;  we  heard 
that  yesterday.     Mother  takes  in  washing.     Oh 
Lord,  it  will  kill  me,  the  fun  of  it.     (Doubled 
76 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

up  with  silent  laughter,  LORD  MARLOW  furtively 
zvatches  CICELY'S  face.) 

CICELY  SEYMOUR  (coldly)  :  Why  should  you 
be  surprised  that  Mr.  Bertram  puts  his  theories 
in  practice?  It  is  only  like  Count  Tolstoi's 
ploughing. 

LORD  MARLOW:  Oh,  I  have  still  another  piece 
of  news  to  communicate.  (All  seemed  greatly 
curious  except  CICELY.  She  fears  some  new 
insults  for  BERTRAM.)  It  appears  that  a  cousin 
has  left  an  immense  fortune  to  Bertram  in  case 
he  will  take  charge  of  it;  otherwise  it  goes  to 
Magdalen  College.  Fanshawe  told  me  he  had 
refused  it  and  that  his  uncle,  Lord  Southwold, 
when  he  heard  about  the  matter  declared  his 
nephew  to  be  as  mad  as  a  hatter,  and  that  he 
ought  to  be  placed  in  a  padded  cell. 

LADY  JANE  RIVAUX:  Goodness,  Cicely!  You 
surely  can't  defend  such  insanity  as  this.  It  is 
very  much  worse  than  any  plough. 

CICELY  SEYMOUR:  At  all  events,  whatever  it 
may  be,  it  is  certainly  only  the  business  of  those 
concerned  in  it,  and  none  of  ours.  Why  are 
you  not  already  on  your  way  to  the  newspaper 
offices,  Lord  Marlow?  I  believe  they  give  a 
guinea  for  first  news. 

LORD  MARLOW  (sullenly)  :  Bertram  may  be  so 
happy  as  to  interest  you,  Miss  Seymour,  but 
he's  an  unknown  quantity  to  the  world  in  gen- 
eral. Nobody'd  give  twopence  for  any  news  of 
him. 

CICELY  SEYMOUR:  Certainly  he  is  not  chroni- 
cled as  the  winner  at  shooting  and  polo  matches, 

77. 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

which  is  your  distinction,  Lord  Marlow,  and,  I 

believe,  your  only  one. 

(The  ladies  now  rise  and  bid  the  gentlemen  an 

revoir  and  slowly  walk  back  alone.) 
LADY  JANE  RIVAUX:  My  dear  child,  how  re- 
markably  severe   you   are !     And   how   you    do 
stand  up  for  Wilfred   Bertram !    Will  you  tell 
me  of  what  use  are  the  incontestable  talents  he 
was  born  with?     What  does  he  do  with  them? 
Why  write  in  such  a  manner  that  if  he  were 
a   native   of   any   other   country    than    England 
he  would  have  been  lodg'ed  in  prison  years  ago? 
(CICELY  SEYMOUR  is  silent.    She  looks  straight 
before  her  with  a  heightened  color,  and  her 
lips  are  pressed  together  in  irritation.) 
LADY  JANE  RIVAUX  :  I  suppose  you  will  offer 
to  be  bridesmaid  to  Miss  Annie  Brown?    (sar- 
castically.) 

CICELY  SEYMOUR  (coldly)  :  Why  not?  One 
attends  many  weddings  brought  about  by  more 
ignoble  motives. 

LADY  JANE  RIVAUX  :  You  will  riot  see  me  at 
the  ceremony ! 

CICELY  SEYMOUR  :  I  know  I  shall  not,  nor  any 
of  his  relatives.     But  I  do  not  admire  the  class 
prejudice  which  will  keep  you  all  away. 
(The  ladies  saunter  on  till  they  come  to  where 
MRS.  BROWN  is  resting  her  rheumatic  limbs 
on  a  bench.) 

LADY  JANE  RIVAUX  :  Let's  sit  down  a  moment, 
Cicely. 

(MRS.  BROWN  rises  and  curtsies,  taking  up  her 
basket.) 

78 


'A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

LADY  JANE  RIVAUX:  Don't  get  up,  my  good 
woman,  there's  room  enough. 

MRS.  BROWN  (standing  erect,  her  empty  bas- 
ket held  before  her  like  a  shield  of  Boadicea)  : 
Your  'umble  servant,  ma'am. 

CICELY  SEYMOUR:  Why  should  you  stand? 
These  seats  are  free  to  all. 

MRS.  BROWN  :  Thanks,  miss,  but  I  know  my 
duty.  (Insinuatingly)  If  you'd  be  wanting  a 
laundress,  ma'am,  you'd  be  doin'  a  charity  to  re- 
member me — Eliza  Brown,  o'  22  Little  Double 
Street,  back  o'  Portman  Square;  no  acids  used, 
miss,  and  no  machine  work. 
(CICELY  looks  at  her  and  with  some  hesitation 
asks:) 

CICELY  SEYMOUR  :  Are  you — are — you  the 
mother  of  a  young  person  called  Annie  Brown? 
She  went  past  here  a  short  time  ago  with  some 
primroses. 

MRS.  BROWN  :  Yes,  miss,  I  be. 

LADY  JANE  RIVAUX:  Of  Mr.  Bertram's  hero- 
ine !  ( laughing. ) 

MRS.  BROWN  :  Please  'm,  don't  call  her  names, 
ma'am.  She's  a  good  girl,  though  I  say  it  as 
shouldn't  say  it,  and  there's  naught  to  laugh  at, 
unless  it  be  the  gentleman's  rubbish. 

LADY  JANE  RIVAUX  (amused)  :  You  don't 
seem  to  be  grateful  for  the  compliment  he  pays 
your  family. 

MRS.  BROWN   (with  much  excitement)  :  Com- 
pliment is  it,  my  lady  ?    The  gentleman's  a  crank, 
that's  what  he  is;  he  won't  ever  marry  her,  and 
there's  a  good  young  man  around  the  corner  as 
79 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

is  left  out  in  the  cold.  He's  in  the  green-grocery 
line,  and  hev  got  a  good  bit  o'  money  laid  by, 
and  the  match  'ud  be  suitable  in  every  way,  for 
my  daughter's  a  good  judge  o'  green  stuff. 

CICELY  SEYMOUR  :  Mrs.  Brown,  I  should  like 
to  have  the  pleasure  of  knowing  your  daughter. 
Will  you  bring  her  to  see  me  ?  I  am  staying  with 
Mr.  Bertram's  aunt,  Lady  Southwold. 
(MRS.  BROWN  stares  hard  and  is  quite  stunned 
for  a  time.'} 

MRS.  BROWN  :  You  do  my  girl  a  great  honor. 
Poor  folks,  miss,  ain't  got  no  place  with  rich 
'uns. 

CICELY  SEYMOUR  :  That  is  rather  a  narrow 
feeling,  Mrs.  Brown ;  and  surely  your  daughter 
ought  to  begin  to  know  Mr.  Bertram's  friends 
and  relatives. 

MRS.  BROWN  (with  decision}  :  She  won't  be 
naught  to  Mr.  Bertram,  miss.  Tis  a  pack  of 
stuff  their  thinkin'  on  it.  Lord,  my  lady,  if  you 
only  see  his  shirts,  that  fine  as  cobwebs  is  coarse 
to  'em. 

LADY  JANE  RIVAUX  (much  diverted,  aside 
to  CICELY)  :  She  evidently  does  not  believe  in  the 
seriousness  of  Bertram's  attentions. 

MRS.  BROWN  (tucking  her  basket  under  her 
arm}  :  You'll  excuse  me,  my  ladies,  if  I  don't 
stay  to  prate.  Us  poor  folks  'even't  got  time  to 
lose  in  gossip;  and  if  you  can  give  me  work  'm 
I'll  be  truly  thankful  to  you,  ma'am — Eliza 
Brown,  22,  Little  Double  Street,  back  of  Port- 
man  Square.  Your  servant,  ladies ! 

(MRS.  BROWN  bobs  a  curtsey  and  departs.) 
80 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

CICELY  SEYMOUR  :  A  nice  honest  woman. 
(LADY  JANE  laughs.    CICELY  traces  patterns  on 
the  gravel  zvith  her  sunshade.) 

CICELY  SEYMOUR:  I  should  like  to  see  the 
girl. 

LADY  JANE  RIVAUX  :  Why  ?  You  may  be  sure 
she  is  a  little  horror. 

CICELY  SEYMOUR:  I  am  sure  she  is  a  very 
good  girl.  A  person  must  be  good  that  lives 
amongst  flowers. 

LADY  JANE  RIVAUX  (out  of  patience)  :  Flor- 
ists are  not  all  saints,  and  it  does  not  seem  an 
exalted  mission  to  make  buttonholes  for  mashers. 
There  is  not  even  the  excuse  of  good  looks  for 
Bertram's  aberration.  She  is  quite  a  plain  little 
thing,  Marlow  says. 

CICELY  SEYMOUR:  Let  us  take  another  turn. 
We  shall  see  the  children  again. 


r  t 


A  r  t 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 


ACT  III. 

SCENE  I. — BERTRAM'S  rooms  are  en  suite,  one 
out  of  another,  and  from  the  door-mat  he  can 
sec  through  all  four  of  them,  between  the 
curtains  of  Eastern  stuffs  which  he  has 
brought  home  from  Tiftis.  He  cannot  be- 
lieve in  the  siglit  which  meets  his  eyes  in  the 
third  room,  which  is  his  study.  There  is  in 
that  room  a  large  Florentine  cabinet  of  tor- 
toise-shell and  brass-work;  the  key  of  the 
drawers  thereof  is  on  his  watch-chain;  yet 
he  perceives  that  the  drawers  are  all  open, 
their  contents  are  strewn  about,  and  stoop- 
ing down  over  them  is  CRITCHETT. 
BERTRAM  (walking  noiselessly  over  the  floor, 

touches  him  on  the  shoulder)  :  You !  a  common 

thief ! 

(CRITCHETT  stumbles  to  his  feet,  pulls  himself 
erect  rather  nervously,   and  faces  his  em- 
ployer. ) 
CRITCHETT  :  I  beg  pardon,  sir.    I  thought  you 

had   gone   to   Mr.    Domville's.     I   was   coming 

down  with  the  valise. 

(BERTRAM  takes  the  pearls  out  of  his  grasp;  he 
has  grown  much  paler  than  his  nefarious 
valet.    He  is  cut  to  the  heart.) 
85 


'A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

BERTRAM  :  A  common  thief — you !  ( The  "Et 
tu,  Brute!"  had  not  more  pathetic  reproval  in  it. 
CRITCHETT  in  the  interval  has  recovered  his  self- 
possession,  and  what  more  vulgar  persons  would 
call  his  cheek.} 

CRITCHETT:  Excuse  me,  sir.  There  aren't 
such  a  thing  as  theft.  What  is  called  theft  is 
only  an  over- violent  readjustment  of  unfairly 
divided  values.  I've  read  it  in  the  Age  to  Come. 

BERTRAM  :  You  infernal  scoundrel !  These  are 
my  dead  mother's  jewels. 

CRITCHETT:  I  know  they  were,  sir.  But  they 
are  doing  no  good  here ;  and  you  told  the  ladies 
yesterday  as  all  jewelry  was  an  abomination. 

BERTRAM  :  This  is  probably  not  the  first  time 
by  many  that  you  have  robbed  me? 

CRITCHETT:  I  let  nobody  else  steal  a  farthing 
from  you,  sir. 

BERTRAM  :  Indeed !  You  like  vicarious  virtue. 
How  could  you  open  the  cabinet?  It  has  a 
Bramah  lock? 

CRITCHETT:  And  this  here's  a  Bramah  pick- 
lock, sir.  (Displays  an  elegant  little  tool) 

BERTRAM  :  You  infernal  scoundrel !  If  I  did  my 
duty,  I  should  give  you  to  the  police. 

CRITCHETT  :  Oh,  no,  sir,  you  couldn't  do  that  to 
be  consistent;  and  consistency  is  the  first  of  vir- 
tues. I've  heard  you  say  that  prevention  is  sug- 
gestion, and  that  if  there  was  no  constables 
there'd  be  no  crime.  In  locking  up  this  cabinet 
you  put  into  my  mind  the  idea  of  opening  it.  It 
is  you,  sir,  who  are  to  blame,  not  I.  (CRITCHETT 
smiles  demurely  as  he  repeats  these  words,  then 
86 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

continues:}  You  have  debased  me,  sir,  by  making 
me  fill  a  servile  office.  No  man  should  serve  an- 
other. You've  said  so  often. 

BERTRAM  (unspeakably  annoyed  and  dis- 
tressed} :  I  believed  in  you,  Critchett. 

CRITCHETT  (smiles}  :  I  know  you  did,  sir;  you 
believe  in  a  lot  o'  things  as  won't  wash. 

BERTRAM  :  And  you  feel  no  remorse  for  hav- 
ing deceived  me? 

CRITCHETT  :  No,  sir.  Remorse  aren't  seen  out- 
side of  theatres,  I  think.  Tis  a  word,  sir.  Tis 
only  a  word. 

(BERTRAM  is  silent.  The  cheap  cynicism  of  this 
man,  who  has  lived  beside  him  during  a 
dozen  years,  is  revolting.} 

BERTRAM  (after  a  pause)  :  You  are  aware  that 
I  could  have  you  arrested? 

CRITCHETT:  No,  sir,  you  couldn't.  You'd  be 
giving  the  lie  to  all  your  own  theories.  Try  and 
look  at  it  philosophic-like,  sir. 

BERTRAM  (Tvith  a  longing  to  call  up  the  po- 
liceman now  passing  by  the  rails  of  the  Green 
Park}  :  Take  your  wage  for  the  coming  month 
and  be  gone!  (Throws  a  five-pound  note  on  the 
table.} 

CRITCHETT:  It  is  usual  to  give  more  than  a 
month's  anticipatory  honorarium  on  parting  af- 
ter such  a  long  association. 

BERTRAM    (excited}:   You    impudent   villain! 
The  only  payment  you  deserve  is  the  treadmill. 
Do  not  stretch  my  patience  too  far. 
(CRITCHETT  perceives  that  his  long  docile  vic- 
tim is  roused,  and  may  become  dangerous.) 
87 


'A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

CRITCHETT  (meekly}  :  Would  you  wish  to  ex- 
amine my  portmanteau,  sir? 

BERTRAM  :  No,  begone ! 

CRITCHETT   (bowing  very  low}  :  I  have  only 
put  your  theories  into   practice,   sir,   and   you'll 
be  sorry  if  you  send  me  away.     You  won't  find 
another  Critchett  very  easily. 
(BERTRAM  turns  his  back  on  him.     The  man  at 
last  having  departed  he  picks  up  various  ob- 
jects and  begins  to  replace  them  in  the  draw- 
ers of  the  cabinet.    The  sight  of  his  mother's 
jewels  also  saddens  him.  He  had  been  her 
favorite  son  and  he  had  loved  her  dearly.} 

ANNIE  BROWN  (entering  timidly  through  the 
anteroom,  of  which  CRITCHETT  had  left  the  door 
open  behind  him.  She  wears  the  same  clothes  as 
she  wore  in  the  Park,  but  she  carries  no  bas- 
ket on  her  arms}  :  Lord's  sakes,  sir,  what  hev 
happened  ? 

BERTRAM  :  Critchett  is  a  thief,  Annie.  I  caught 
him  in  the  act. 

ANNIE  BROWN  (not  astonished}  :  Mother  al- 
ways knew  he  was  so,  sir.  But  she  didn't  dare 
to  tell  you.  You  were  so  fond  of  him. 

BERTRAM":  How  could  she  possibly  know? 

ANNIE  BROWN  :  Well,  sir,  he  was  always 
a-boasting  of  'ow  he  fleeced  you.  I  believe  all 
the  gentlemen's  gentlemen  in  these  'ere  parts  o' 
London  know  how  he  tricked  ye.  Lord,  sir,  he 
even  pawned  your  shirts ! 

BERTRAM  :  Why  didn't  you  warn  me? 

ANNIE  BROWN  :  Well,  you  see,  sir,  we  didn't 
like  to  lose  a  man  his  place. 
88 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

BERTRAM:  You  condoned  a  felony  sooner? 

ANNIE  BROWN:  Please,  sir,  I  don't  know  what 
that  is.  But  poor  folk  don't  never  take  the  bread 
out  o'  each  other's  mouths.  And,  besides,  you 
wouldn't  have  believed  anybody  against  Critchett, 
sir.  You  were  that  wrapped  in  him. 

BERTRAM  (with  great  sadness)  :  How  cruelly 
one  may  be  deceived. 

ANNIE  BROWN  (sympathetically)  :  Tis  easy  to 
deceive  you,  sir,  as  instead  of  seeing  people  as 
they  is,  you  see  'em  as  you  fancy  'em  to  be. 

BERTRAM  :  Perhaps  so.  I  fear  I  am  a  greater 
fool  than  I  thought. 

ANNIE  BROWN:  Oh,  no,  sir;  only  too  trustin'- 
like. 

BERTRAM  (much  irritated')  :  Well,  well,  Crit- 
chett is  a  thing  of  the  past.  We  will  never  speak 
of  him  again.  But  why  have  you  come  to  my 
rooms,  my  dear  girl?  It  is  not — quite — correct. 
Caesar's  wife,  you  know.  But  perhaps  you  never 
heard  of  her 

ANNIE  BROWN:  No,  sir.  Who  was  the  lady? 
I  only  came  to  say  a  word,  Mr.  Bertram.  There 
aren't  no  harm  in  it,  though  mother  would  be 
angry  over  to  the  place. 

BERTRAM  :  If  you  would  have  sent  me  a  line  I 
would  have  called  on  you. 

ANNIE  BROWN  :  You  see,  sir,  mother  and  sister 
Kate's  at  home.  They'd  hear  every  word,  and 
I  want  to  speak  to  you  all  alone.  I  won't  be 
many  minutes.  I  don't  think  it's  any  harm  corn- 
in',  though  mother  would  be  fit  to  kill  me  if  she 

knew 

89 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

BERTRAM  :  Your  mother  is  quite  right  in  her 
views,  Annie.  Young  women  cannot  be  too  cir- 
cumspect. 

ANNIE  BROWN  :  I'm  always  circumspec',  sir ; 
and — oh,  Lord,  Mr.  Bertram,  what  a  beautiful 
string  o'  pearls ! 

BERTRAM  :  They  were  my  mother's,  Annie. 
They  will  be  yours. 

ANNIE  BROWN  :  Mine,  sir !  Lord,  never !  The 
idea  of  Critchett  takin'  them  pearls.  Why  they 
must  be  worth  thousands  and  thousands  of 
pounds ! 

BERTRAM  :  No,  some  hundreds.  My  mother 
left  these  things  to  me  for  my  wife  when  I 
should  have  one.  They  are  very  sacred  to  me. 
They  will  be  as  dear  to  you,  Annie,  I  am  sure. 

ANNIE  BROWN  (very  positively')  :  Oh,  sir, 
they'll  never  be  mine.  You  might  as  well  talk 
of  my  wearin'  the  crown  of  England. 

BERTRAM  :  Always  low  and  servile  compari- 
sons, Annie ! 

ANNIE  BROWN  :  Lord,  sir,  be  a  queen's  crown 
low? 

BERTRAM  :  To  think  of  it  as  a  desirable  and  en- 
viable thing  is  extremely  low. 

ANNIE  BROWN  :  I  am  afraid,  sir,  I  don't  un- 
derstand. Will  you  please  put  up  these  pearls? 
They're  that  beautiful  I  don't  dare  touch  'em. 

BERTRAM  :  They  will  be  my  wife's.  Therefore, 
I  repeat,  they  will  be  yours. 

ANNIE  BROWN  :  That's  what  I  come  to  say  to 
you,  sir.  What  we  have  thought  of  won't  never 
be.  Can't  never  be.  'Tisn't  in  reason.  When 
90 


'A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

the  bus  run  over  me  last  year  and  you  picked  me 
up  and  took  me  'ome  you  seemed  like  a  prince 
to  me,  sir 

BERTRAM  :  Always  vulgar  and  servile  compari- 
sons. 

ANNIE  BROWN  :  And  when  you  come  about 
our  place,  mother  said  to  me,  "That  gent  don't 
mean  no  good,  and  it's  the  broom  I'll  take  to 
him;"  and  Sam,  he  said,  "If  he's  barter  Hann 
I'll  give  'im  a  'iding."  And  then  you  said  we  was 
to  marry,  and  mother  said  it  was  all  moonshine, 
and  Sam  didn't  like  the  idea  of  it ;  but  you  said  it 
would  be  a  beautiful  example  to  all  classes,  and 
I — I — well,  I  couldn't  believe  my  ears,  Mr.  Ber- 
tram. 

BERTRAM  (sorely  tried}  :  What  is  the  use  of 
going  over  all  this  ground,  Annie? 

ANNIE  BROWN  :  I  want  you  to  understand, 
sir.  I've  been  thinkin'  and  thinkin'  of  all  you, 
said  yesterday,  and  I  see,  sir,  as  how  you  haven't 
a  mite  o'  love  for  me,  and  it  makes  me  feel  cold 
all  over  like 

BERTRAM  (irritated)  :  Oh,  why  do  you  want 
love?  I  have  the  highest  respect  for  you,  which 
I  am  about  to  prove  in  the  strongest  manner  that 
any  man  can  prove  his  sentiments 

ANNIE  BROWN:  Yes,  I  know,  sir;  but — 
but 

BERTRAM  (loftily)  :  There  are  finer  sentiments 
than  love! 

ANNIE  BROWN  :  Perhaps  there  are,  sir,  for  the 
quality.  But  love's  poor  people's  feast;  the  only 

91 


'A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

one  they  ever  knows  all  their  days.     And — you 
— don't  love  me  ? 

(ANNIE  looks  at  BERTRAM  fixedly.    He  is  embar- 
rassed. ) 

BERTRAM  (evasively)  :  Should  I  have  given 
you  my  mother's  pearls,  if  I  did  not? 

ANNIE  BROWN  (with  sad  certitude)  :  You 
haven't  giv'  'em  to  me,  and  I  haven't  took  'em. 
Some  other  than  me'll  wear  'em.  I  came  to  say 
to  you,  Mr.  Bertram,  that  I  won't  never  marry 
you.  Mother  says  as  'ow  you've  come  into  a 
great  fortune ;  but  whether  you're  rich  or  poor, 
that's  nothing'  to  me.  I  won't  marry  you,  'cos 
we'd  be  miserable ;  and  that's  what  I  come  here 
all  alone  to-day  to  say  to  you. 

BERTRAM  (irritated)  :  You  are  faithless,  An- 
nie! 

ANNIE  BROWN:  No,  sir;  I'm  faithful.  I'll  re- 
member ye  all  my  days.  P'rhaps  1 11  marry,  p'r- 
haps  I  won't;  but  I'll  never  forget  you,  and  I'll 
pray  for  you  every  night. 

(BERTRAM  is  touched  and  astonished.) 

BERTRAM  :  But  my  dear  little  girl,  you  have  my 
word  of  honor.  I  can't  retract  it.  I  will  try  and 
make  you  happy,  Annie. 

ANNIE  BROWN  :  I'm  sure  you  would  try,  sir ; 
but  you  couldn't  do  it.  You'd  make  me  miserable 
and  you  would  be  miserable.  You  haven't  any 
love  for  me;  you  have  said  you  hadn't.  I  couldn't 
live  without  the  poor  man's  feast-love. 

BERTRAM  :  You  don't  understand  what  a  sin- 
cere regard  I  have  for  you,  how  honestly  I  will 
try  to  do  my  duty  by  you. 
92 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

ANNIE  BROWN  :  Sir,  I  ain't  no  more  fit  for  you 
than  my  poor  sun-browned  throat  be  fit  for  a 
lady's  jewels.  You've  had  a  hobby,  and  you've 
rid  it  hard,  and  I  was  a  part  of  it  for  awhile.  But 
'twas  only  fancy.  Lord!  how  clear  I  saw  it  all 
when  you  spoke  so  scornful-like  of  love !  Love 
may  be  a  ordinary  valleyless  sort  o'  thing  like  but- 
tercups and  daisies,  but  how  them  little  blossoms 
do  make  a  glory  on  a  dusty  common.  It's  the 
buttercups  and  daisies  as  I  want,  sir;  not  them 
cold  white  pearls. 

BERTRAM  :  Poor  little  Annie !  I  can't  give  you 
what  I  have  not. 

ANNIE  BROWN  :  No,  sir,  that's  just  it.  The 
fault  ain't  none  o'  yours.  Don't  think  I  blame  ye, 
sir,  or  cast  a  word  against  ye.  We  are  as  we  are 
made.  But  it  is  good-bye,  sir,  and  good-bye  it 
must  be  forever.  Don't  ye  worry  or  fret.  We're 
too  wide  apart,  and  'twas  folly  to  think  as  we 
could  ever  be  one.  (ANNIE'S  voice  breaks  dozvn, 
her  tears  fall;  BERTRAM  takes  her  hands  in  his 
and  kisses  her  on  the  forehead.) 

BERTRAM  :   Dear  little  Annie !   I   feel  as  if  I 
had  sinned  against  you !  and  yet  God  knows  I 
had  the  best  intentions ;  and  if  I  deceived  anyone, 
I  deceived  myself  first  of  all. 
(The  tramp  of  heavy  steps  is  heard  and  AN- 
NIE'S  elder  brother   SAM    dashes   the   cur- 
tains   aside,    wildly   flourishing    a    driving- 

.    ivhip. ) 

SAM  :  Yah  !  Bloated  aristocrat !  I've  nabbed 
ye  at  last.  Shame  on  ye!  Shame  on  ye,  too, 
Hann  !  (Beginning  to  yell  at  the  top  of  his  voice 

93 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

to  his  sister:}  Out  of  this  room,  gal,  whilst  I 
gi'e  your  bloomin'  nob  the  lickin'  he  deserves. 
(Turning  to  BERTRAM  and  flourishing  his  whip :) 
'Tis  for  this  we  pore  workin'-folks  toils  and  moils 
and  starves,  to  hev  our  wimmen  folks  trod  under 
foot  like  dirt  by  blackguard  swells !  Sister  Kate, 
at  'ome,  says  to  me,  "Sam,  run  quick  and  ye'll 
catch  'em  together;"  and  I  meets  yer  servant  in 
the  street,  an'  he  says,  too,  "Run,  Sam,  and  ye'll 
catch  'em  together."  But  I  never  thought,  re- 
spectable as  our  fam'ly  is,  and  so  mealy-mouthed 
as  is  Sister  Hann 

BERTRAM  (coldly  interposes)  :  When  you  have 
done  yelling,  my  good  youth,  will  you  listen  to 
a  word  of  common  sense  ? 

ANNIE  BROWN  (hurriedly}  :  Oh,  Sam,  are  you 
mad?  Kate  never  meant  anything  of  the  kind. 
You  know  Mr.  Bertram  has  ever  treated  me  as 
if  I  was  a  waxworks  under  a  glass  case. 

BERTRAM  :  Take  off  your  hat,  put  down  your 
whip,  apologize  to  your  sister,  and  listen  to  me. 
(But  the  youth  is  in  no  mood  to  hear  or  obey. 
He  has  taken  a  glass  of  gin  with  a  fellow- 
cabby,  and  his  blood  is  on  fire.) 

SAM:  I  won't  listen  to  you  nor  to  nobody. 
Ye'll  get  your  thrashin'  at  last,  you  scoundrel, 
as  preaches  to  the  pore.  (He  advances  to 
BERTRAM,  whirling  his  horsewhip,  with  a  broken 
lash,  above  his  head.  BERTRAM  eyes  him  calmly, 
remembers  Old  Oxford  rows,  straightens  his 
arm  and  meets  him  with  a  scientific  blow  which 
sends  him  backward  on  the  floor.) 

BERTRAM  :  Don't  scream,  Annie.  I  have  not 
94 


'A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

hurt  your  brother;  but  he  must  have  a  lesson. 
(Picks  up  the  whip,  breaks  it  in  two  and  throws 
the  pieces  in  a  corner;  then  turns  to  SAM.)  Get 
up,  you  dolt,  and  ask  your  sister's  pardon  for 
brawling  in  her  presence.  (SAM  does  get  up 
stupidly  and  sloivly,  looks  around  him  bewildered, 
with  a  dazed,  blind  look.) 

SAM  :  You  hits  uncommon. 

BERTRAM  :  Certainly,  I  hit  hard  when  I  hit  at 
all.  You  insulted  me,  and,  more  gravely  still, 
your  sister.  I  am  perfectly  ready  to  marry  her 
but  she  will  not  marry  me.  Can  you  put  that  into 
your  brain  and  understand  it?  (SAM  stares  and 
rubs  his  aching  head.) 

SAM  :  Lord,  sir,  do  you  mean  as  Hann  hev 
jilted  you? 

ANNIE  BROWN  (impetuously)  :  Oh,  Sam,  how 
can  you? 

BERTRAM  (with  a  slight  smile)  :  I  believe  that 
is  what  you  would  call  it  in  your  world.  Your 
sister  does  not  wish  to  marry  me.  She  thinks — 
perhaps  she  is  right — that  I  am  not  worthy  of 
her. 

ANNIE  BROWN  :  Oh,  Mr.  Bertram !  I  never 

BERTRAM  :  She  is  my  dear  little  friend.  She 
will  always  be  my  friend,  and  if  you  persume  to 
slight  or  worry  her  in  any  kind  of  way,  you  will 
have  to  deal  with  me.  You  know  now  how  I 
treat  affronts. 

SAM  (still  stupid  and  ruefully  rubbing  his 
pate)  :  Lawk  a  mussy!  If  you  would  be  spliced 
to  her  she  is  a  darn  fool. 

BERTRAM  :  She  is  a  little  sage  and  a  little  saint. 
95 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

See  her  safe  home,  and  there  are  two  sovereigns 
to  buy  a  new  whip. 

ANNIE  BROWN  :  Oh,  don't  take  the  money, 
Sam. 

SAM  (pocketing  the  sovereigns}  :  Strikes  me, 
Mister,  you  owes  me  more  than  that.  Tis  as- 
sault and  battery. 

BERTRAM  (very  decidedly)  :  I  shall  give  you 
no  more  money.  I  will  knock  you  down  again 
if  you  like. 

ANNIE  BROWN  (pulling  SAM  toward  the 
door)  :  'Come  away,  Sam — oh,  Sam,  aren't  you 
ashamed? 

SAM  :  Naw,  I  ain't.  Kate  says,  "Run  and  you'll 
find  them  together."  Critchett  says,  "Run  and 
you'll  find  them  together."  I  run  and  I  did  find 
ye  together.  How  was  I  to  know? 

ANNIE  BROWN  (in  anguish)  :  Oh,  come  away, 
Sam.  Come  away.  You  disgrace  yourself  and 
me.  I'll  tell  mother.  (SAM  is  suddenly  subdued 
and  alarmed.) 

SAM  :  Naw,  don't  tell  mother.  (He  starts  for 
the  door.) 

ANNIE  BROWN:  Oh,  Mr.  Bertram,  I  am  so 
ashamed.  Do  pray  forgive  him.  He  is  only  a 
lad. 

BERTRAM  (smiling  down  upon  her  tenderly)  : 
I  would  forgive  him  much  heavier  offenses.  He 
is  your  brother. 

ANNIE  BROWN  (softly,  looking  back  at  BER- 
TRAM as  she  goes  out  of  the  door)  :  God  bless 
you,  sir. 

BERTRAM  (meditatively  and  tenderly)  :  Dear 
96 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

little  girl !  Dear  honest  little  girl.  Ah,  how  easy 
to  have  learned  to  love — a  Daughter  of  the  Peo- 
ple. Aye,  the  People,  those  toiling  mil- 
lions who  have  tilled  the  earth,  woven  its  fabrics, 
reared  its  palaces,  mined  its  metals,  fought  its 
battles, — for  whom?  Why,  for  its  hard  task- 
masters of  the  past,  its  rapacious  money-kings  of 
the  present !  Alack  and  alack !  When  will  the 
People  resolve  to  be  their  own  taskmasters  and 
by  so  doing  render  their  tasks  easy  and  their 
burden  light? 


SCENE  II. — Much  the  same  party  of  ladies 
and  gentlemen,  who  attended  BER- 
TRAM'S lecture,  are  present  in  a  beautiful 
Italian  garden,  at  once  splendid,  majestic, 
and  homelike,  with  an  artistic  fountain  play- 
ing in  the  centre.  On  a  charming  elevation 
not  far  distant  gleams,  on  this  golden  August 
afternoon,  a  fine  English  castle.  It  is  one 
of  the  country  homes  of  LORD  SOUTHWOLD. 
Neither  LORD  SOUTHWOLD  nor  BERTRAM  have 
yet  arrived,  although  the  party,  tired  of  wait- 
ing f°r  them,  are  partaking  of  light  refresh- 
ments; ivith  the  exception  of  tivo  or  three 
couples,  who  are  waltzing  in  and  out  among 
the  shrubbery  to  some  gay  dance  music  ren- 
dered by  a  small  band  of  musicians  grouped 
under  a  stately  tree.  Most  of  the  party  are 
seated  in  the  vicinity  of  LADY  SOUTHWOLD  on 
picturesque  garden  seats,  though  some  are 
lounging  on  grassy  slopes.  The  curtain  rises 
in  the  midst  of  the  gay  dance  music,  reveal- 
97 


'A     PREM'ATURE     S  0  C  I  'A  L  I  S  T 

ing  the  waltzers  flitting  in  and  out  of  view 
among  the  trees  and  slanting  sunbeams. 
LADY  SOUTHWOLD:    Now  my  good  friends  of 
the  nimble  feet,  please  be  seated.  One  of  our  num- 
ber has  consented  to  sing  for  us  a  thrilling  love- 
song  that  she  learned  to  warble  in  Italy  while 
under  the  instruction  of  a  great  Italian  Maestro 
who   in  his  prime  sang  with  Patti. 
(No  sooner  has  the  great  singer's  name  left  the 
lips  of  LADY   SOUTHWOLD   than   all  group 
themselves  together  in  expectant  silence.  The 
singer  takes  her  place  near  the  musicians  and 
renders  her  song,  after  which  there  is  an  in- 
stant of  silence  follozved  by  very  hearty  ap- 
plause, so  long  continued  that  she  is  forced 
to  repeat  the  last  stanza.    Again  there  is  ap- 
plause and  a  buzz  of  congratulations  as  she 
takes  her  seat  near  her  hostess  and  is  handed 
a  cup  of  tea  and  some  cakes  by  a  servant  in 
livery.} 

LORD  MARLOW  :  If  Socialism  was  on  now  all 
love-songs  would  be  burnt  and  the  throats  of  their 
singers  silenced — or  slit.  We  should  have  instead 
fraternal  sentiments  set  to  music  like  that  of 
"Onward,  Christian  Soldiers."  How  would  you 
enjoy  the  change,  (LORD  MARLOW  turns  to  the 
singer  near  him)  Miss  Norma? 

THE  SINGER  (laughing  with  others')  :  What 
nonsense  you  indulge  in,  Lord  Marlow!  But  if 
it  ever  came  to  pass  that  Socialism  or  any  other 
ism  did  away  with  love-songs  I  should  slit  my 
throat  myself. 
SEVERAL  TOGETHER  :  Bravo !  Bravo ! 


'A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

CYNICAL  YOUNG  MAN:  What  is  love?  Can 
anyone  present  define  it  ? 

CICELY  SEYMOUR  (with  a  tender  glance}  :  Love 
is  sympathy,  devotion,  bliss. 

LORD  MARLOW  (irritated  that  CICELY  does  not 
love  him)  :  I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss  Seymour, 
but  love  in  these  days  is  merely  a  desire  for  an- 
nexation of  property.  The  greater  the  property 
to  be  annexed  the  greater  the  love,  the  devotion, 
the  bliss. 

OLD  BACHELOR:  I  would  define  love  as — il- 
lusion. 

THE  OLD  DUKE  (meditatively)  :  True — true. 
We  have  an  ideal  in  mind  and  temporarily  endow 
some  person  with  its  divinity  to  wake  presently 
and  find  ourselves  deceived.  Then  we  are  angry 
with  this  person  when  we  should  be  angry  with 
ourselves. 

LADY  SOUTHWOLD:  If  love  soon  proves  an 
illusion  after  marriage  it  is  often  because  a  woman 
is  slow  to  learn  that  if  she  wants  her  way  she 
must  give  her  husband  his. 

LORD  MARLOW  :  But  ideals  and  tastes  differ. 
Giovanni  Dupre's  ideal  of  bliss  was  to  see  his 
wife  ironing  linen,  while  his  mother-in-law  looked 
on.  In  one  respect  Giovanni  was  to  be  envied. 
So  long  as  his  wife  could  hold  an  iron  and  his 
mother-in-law  look  on  he  could  be  sure  of  his 
bliss.  With  the  most  of  us  love  is  a  short  state 
of  imbecile  adoration  followed  by  a  desire  to  kick 
ourselves  all  over  creation.  (A  general  laugh.) 

OLD  BACHELOR:  The  trouble  with  most  wo- 
men in  love  is  that  they  give  us  too  much  of  a  good 
99 


'A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

thing,  whence  comes  indigestion.  Of  a  fit  of  love- 
indigestion  no  one  recovers ;  whereas,  if  one  is 
merely  starved  it  is  possible  to  revive  and  tnrive 
after  a  few  coy  glances. 

LADY  SOUTHWOLD  :  Let  us  agree  that  not  many 
people  have  minds  of  sufficient  charm  and  origi- 
nality to  long  endure  an  intimacy  of  the  nature 
that  love  demands 

LORD  MARLOW  (impatiently')  :  What  has  mind 
to  do  with  it?  Great  men  like  Shakespeare, 
Goethe,  Milton,  Michael  Angelo,  Raphael,  have 
either  set  us  the  example  of  loving  and  marrying 
women  without  any  minds  at  all  or  of  not  marry- 
ing. In  the  case  of  Buddha  he  loved  and  married 
but  afterwards  repudiated  his  wife. 

LADY  SOUTHWOLD  (tenaciously)  :  The  mind 
has  something  to  do  with  successful  love-making 
even  in  animals.  Why  should  the  lion  prefer  one 
lioness  to  another?  It  is  true  that  Bertram  ap- 
pears to  believe  that  Socialism  will  content  itself 
with  prudence  and  esteem. 

LADY  JANE  RIVAUX  (vivaciously')  :  If  men 
could  be  made  to  believe  that  Socialism  would 
put  away  the  love-making  of  the  past — even  of 
the  annexing  sort  of  to-day — how  they  would  im- 
prove the  present ! 

LORD  MARLOW  :  Ah,  Lady  Jane,  you  have  given 
us  a  bright  idea!  We  should  be  up  and  doing 
— in  love-making.  (He  rises  at  once,  approaches 
LADY  JANE  RIVAUX  and  pretends  to  be  about  to 
fing  his  arms  about  her,  at  the  same  time  treat- 
ing her  to  melting  glances  and  smacking  his  lips 
loudly.  Others  follow  his  example.  No  one 

100 


seems  to  be  particular  whom  they  make  love^  to — 
only  making  sure  that  it  is  done  energetically, 
robustly,  ardently.  The  oldest  woman  present  is 
made  love  to  the  most  abjectly,  her  pretended 
lover  getting  dozun  on  his  knees  and  paying  his 
part  zc'/Y/z  all  the  devotion  of  a  Romeo. .  Each  man 
present  seems  to  endeavor  to  outdo  the  rest.} 

LADY  SOUTHWOLD  (who  has  a  headache,  soon 
tiring  of  the  nonsense  observes  in  a  dignified  man- 
ner) :  Brandes  says  that  "love  as  a  sentiment 
was  unknown  in  a  state  of  nature  and  was  created 
with  the  first  petticoat."  Petticoats  are  undoubt- 
edly responsible  for  a  great  deal  of  mischief  done 
in  the  world,  but  if  they  have  raised  us  from  the 
level  of  the  cattle  they  deserve  the  gratitude  of 
men. 

CICELY  SEYMOUR  (dreamily):  Poor  cattle! 
They  have  as  much  poetry  in  their  soft  eyes  as 
there  is  in  many  a  poem  of  love. 

LADY  SOUTHWOLD:  Ah,  by  the  way,  we  have 
been  buying  some  new  cattle  They  are  fine,  sleek 
creatures.  Suppose,  Lord  Marlow,  you  take  the 
party  to  see  them.  They  are  well  worth  looking 
at.  Excuse  me  that  I  remain  here  sipping  my  tea. 
My  head  is  still  aching  a  little. 

CICELY  SEYMOUR  (seating  herself  nearer  LADY 

SOUTHWOLD)  :  And  I   will  keep  you  company. 

(The  rest  troop  away  in  twos  and  threes.    LORD 

SOUTHWOLD  is  now  seen  approaching   the 

garden  as  fast  as  his  gouty  toe  will  permit. 

He  begins  to  shout  to  his  wife  while  yet  at 

some  distance.) 

LORD  SOUTHWOLD:  It's  true!  It's  perfectly 
101 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

true!  It's  been  left  him  and  he  won't  have  it — 
can  you  believe  that?    He  won't  have  it! 

LADY  SOUTHWOLD  :    I  can  believe  it  of  him. 

LORD  SOUTHWOLD  (dropping  down  on  a  seat 
with  a  crushed  air)  :  Well,  I  can't,  though  I've 
heard  him  say  it  with  my  own  ears.  And  he  said, 
''What  could  it  possibly  matter  to  us?" 

CICELY  SEYMOUR:  Well,  dear  Lord  South- 
wold,  why  should  it  matter? 

LORD  SOUTHWOLD:    Why?    Why? 

LADY  SOUTHWOLD:    Why?    Oh,  Cicely! 

CICELY  SEYMOUR:  Well,  why?  (impatiently.) 
If  Mr.  Bertram  likes  to  live  a  poor  man  instead 
of  becoming  a  rich  one,  what  business  is  it  of  any- 
body ? 

LORD  SOUTHWOLD  (with  a  big  sigh)  :  Oh 
Lord! 

LADY  SOUTHWOLD:  Good  heavens,  Cicely! 
You  might  as  well  ask  what  does  a  man's  suicide 
matter  to  his  family. 

CICELY  SEYMOUR  :  Suicide  is  a  disgrace — or  at 
least  it  is  esteemed  so.  This  is  an  honor. 

LORD  AND  LADY  SOUTHWOLD  (both  in  one 
breath)  :  An  honor! 

CICELY  SEYMOUR  :    A  very  rare  honor  to  have 

a  relative  who  in  these  days  has  the,  courage  and 

loyalty  to  principle  to  refuse  a  fortune. 

(LORD   SOUTHWOLD  is  too   utterly  amazed  and 

shocked  to  have  any  power  to  answer  her.) 

LADY  SOUTHWOLD:  My  dear  girl,  this  is  very 
far-fetched.  You  are  talking  great  nonsense,  and 
approving  great  folly.  I  cannot  believe  that  even 

102 


'A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

my  nephew,  Wilfred,  will  be  capable  of  adhering 
to  such  a  crazy  and  thankless  decision. 

CICELY  SEYMOUR  (warmly)  :  I  am  sure  he 
will  adhere  to  it.  At  least  if  he  does  not  I  shall 
be  very  much  mistaken  in  him.  Do  you  think 
that  his  principles  are  mere  sugared  beigncts, 
mere  frothy  souffles  of  eggs  and  cream  ? 

LORD  SOUTH  WOLD  (with  a  snort  like  an  angry 
horse)  :  His  principles !  Do  you  mean  those 
preposterous  tomfooleries  with  which  he  enter- 
tained us  at  his  rooms  ? 

CICELY  SEYMOUR  :  I  mean  the  doctrines  taught 
in  his  own  journal.  He  is  a  Socialist,  a  Mazzin- 
ist,  a  Tolstoist.  How  could  such  a  man,  with  any 
consistency,  accept  a  great  fortune? 

LADY  SOUTHWOLD  (with  unkind  incisiveness)  : 
My  dear  Cicely,  only  a  great  fortune  could  get 
such  opinions  forgiven  him.  As  he  is  going  to 
marry  a  washerwoman's  daughter,  he  will  cer- 
tainly never  get  her  into  society  on  any  less  in- 
come than  thirty  thousand  a  year ! 

LORD  SOUTHWOLD  (savagely)  :  He  will  not 
want  to  get  her  into  society!  Nobody  gathers  a 
dog-rose  to  put  it  under  a  forcing-frame ! 

LADY  SOUTHWOLD  (suddenly)  :  John,  do  you 
think  it  would  be  of  any  use  if  I  went  and  tried 
to  persuade  him  to  suspend  his  decision  ? 

LORD  SOUTHWOLD:  Not  the  slightest.  But 
you  might  try.  Tell  him  it's  flying  in  the  face 
of  Providence. 

(At  this  moment  who  is  seen  approaching  but 
BERTRAM    himself.     He   looks   fagged   and 
worn  out.     There  is  a  dead  silence.     LORD 
103 


rA     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

and  LADY  SOUTHWOLD  stare  blankly  at  him. 
CICELY  rises  from  her  bower  of  roses,  and 
holds  out  her  hand  with  a  charming  smile.} 

CICELY  SEYMOUR  (in  a  kind,  sweet  voice}  : 
Let  me  congratulate  you  on  your  marriage,  Mr. 
Bertram. 

(BERTRAM  looks  at  her  with  a  little  embarrass- 
ment.} 

BERTRAM  :  It  is  very  good  of  you,  Miss  Sey- 
mour; you  are  the  only  person  who  has  said  a 
kind  word 

LORD  SOUTHWOLD  (ivith  great  ire}  :  A  kind 
word  !  Can  you  expect  kind  words  ? 

LADY  SOUTHWOLD:     My  dear  Wilfred,  when 
you  afflict  and  disgrace  us  so  ? 
(BERTRAM    silences    them    with    an    impatient 
movement.} 

BERTRAM  :  Allow  me  to  speak.  My  marriage 
will  not  disgrace  you  for  it  will  not  take  place 

LADY  SOUTHWOLD  :    Thank  God ! 

BERTRAM  :  It  is  not  I  who  have  withdrawn. 
It  is — it  is — Miss  Brown,  with  the  consent  of  her 
family.  But  I  did  not  come  to  speak  of  this  mat- 
ter, which  is  one  purely  personal ;  one  with  which 
I  was  not  aware  you  were  acquainted.  I  came 
to  apologize  to  Lord  Southwold  for  my  rudeness 
yesterday. 

LORD  SOUTHWOLD:  All  right,  all  right!  I'm 
afraid  I  used  strong  language  myself ;  but  really, 
your  pig-headed  illusions  are  so  uncommonly  try- 
ing to  a  plain,  ordinary  man  like  myself 

LADY  SOUTHWOLD   (in  great  an.victy}  :     And 
you  haven't  refused  the  inheritance,  Wilfred? 
104 


'A     PREMATURE     S  0  C  I'A  L  1  S  T 

BERTRAM  :     I  have  refused,  certainly ;  I  have 
signed  and  sealed  a  refusal. 

(LORD  SOUTH  WOLD  emits  a  very  wicked  word; 
his  wife  groans  aloud.  CICELY  SEYMOUR, 
who  has  gone  back  to  the  roses,  listens  with 
interest  and  approval.  BERTRAM  seats  him- 
self.) 

BERTRAM    (softly)  :     Miss  Seymour  does  not 
blame  me. 

CICELY  SEYMOUR  :    No ;  I  should  have  done  as 
you  have  done. 

BERTRAM  (very  gravely)  :  Thanks.  (Then  he 
takes  a  registered  letter  out  of  his  pocket.)  I 
have  just  received  this.  Will  you  allow  me  to 
read  it  to  you?  It  was  sent  to  me  by  the  poor 
vicar  of  a  village  in  the  Pontine  Marshes,  near 
which  my  cousin  met  his  death.  He  says  that  my 
cousin  dictated  it  as  he  lay  dying  in  his  pres- 
bytery, and  the  priest  wrote  it.  It  has  been  sent 
to  me  through  the  Embassy  in  Rome.  Hence 
the  delay.  To  Folliott,  the  man  of  business  had 
telegraphed.  The  letter  is  in  Italian.  I  propose 
to  translate  it  for  you,  for  I  think  my  uncle  and 
you  do  not  know  that  language. 
(BERTRAM  speaks  to  his  aunt,  but  he  looks  at 
CICELY.  ) 

LADY  SOUTHWOLD  :    No,  we  do  not  understand 
Italian.    Let  us  have  it,  my  dear  Wilfred. 

BERTRAM  (reads)  :  "I  am  a  dead  man.  An 
old  tusker  has  let  the  life  out  of  me  forever.  You 
will  get  this  when  I  am  gone.  1  wish  we  had 
known  each  other.  I  have  left  you  all  I  possess, 
not  because  you  are  a  relative,  but  because  I 
105 


A     PREMATURE     S  0  C  I  ~A  L  I  S  T 

think  you  will  do  good  with  it.  I  have  not  been 
a  student,  but  I  have  read  some  numbers  of  your 
journal,  and  though  I  do  not  agree  with  all  your 
opinions,  I  see  you  care  for  the  poor.  Come  and 
live  on  my  lands  and  you  will  have  enough  work 
cut  out  for  you.  I  have  not  done  my  duty — do 
yours." 

(They  are  all  silent.    LADY  SOUTHWOLD  has  tears 
in  her  eyes.} 

BERTRAM  :  In  a  postscript  he  asks  me  to  take 
care  of  his  dogs  and  horses. 

LADY  SOUTHWOLD:  It  is  very  touching.  I  wish 
we  had  known  him. 

(BERTRAM  folds  the  letter  up  and  looks  across 
at  CICELY.) 

LORD  SOUTHWOLD:  Magdalen  College  won't 
trouble  itself  much  about  the  horses  and  dogs. 

LADY  SOUTHWOLD:  Can't  you  withdraw  your 
refusal?  (BERTRAM  is  silent.) 

LORD  SOUTHWOLD:  Would  they  let  you? 

BERTRAM  :  It  is  a  cruel  position  to  be  placed 
in.  However  I  may  decide,  I  must  feel  that  I 
leave  some  duty  undone. 

CICELY  SEYMOUR  :  I  understand  what  Mr.  Ber- 
tram feels.  To  accept  this  fortune  will  be  pain- 
ful, and  even  odious  to  him  with  his  views.  But 
to  let  it  go  to  Oxford,  must  be,  after  receiving 
this  letter,  equally  distressing  to  him  because  he 
will  feel  that  he  has  failed  to  carry  out  a  dead 
man's  trust.  Is  not  that  your  meaning,  Mr. 
Bertram  ? 

BERTRAM   (with  greatful  looks)  :  It  is. 

LORD  SOUTHWOLD  :  You  split  straws.    The  busi- 
106 


"A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

ness  of  the  world  would  never  get  done  if  men 
hemmed  and  hawed  and  tortured  themselves  as 
you  do.  Can  you  retract  your  refusal? 

BERTRAM  :  I  can.  Folliott  said  that  they  should 
take  no  action  on  it  for  twenty-four  hours.  Fan- 
shawe  suggested  that,  indeed,  insisted  on  it. 

LADY  SOUTHWOLD:  Fortunate  for  you  that  a 
practical  man  was  with  you.  I  have  a  respect 
for  Mr.  Fanshawe  which  I  did  not  feel  before. 
Well,  my  dear  Wilfred,  you  can't  hesitate. 
(BERTRAM  does  hesitate.  He  looks  across  at 
CICELY.) 

BERTRAM  :  Will  you  decide  for  me,  Miss  Sey- 
mour? 

CICELY  SEYMOUR:  It  is  a  great  responsibility. 
(She  stops  and  plays  nervously  with  one  of  the 
roses.  Her  color  rises.  At  last  she  looks  up  and 
says  gravely:}  I  think  under  the  circumstances 
you  should  accept.  To  you  wealth  would  be  no 
sinecure,  but  always  a  great  trust  to  be  employed 
for  the  welfare  of  others — for  the  furtherance  of 
great  causes.  Besides,  it  must  be  impossible  to  be 
a  practical  socialist  without  the  environment  of 
the  Socialist  State ;  as  impossible  as  for  a  fish  to 
swim  in  air,  or  a  bird  to  fly  in  a  vacuum. 
(LADY  SOUTHWOLD  rises  and  puts  her  arms 
around  CICELY,  kissing  her  on  her  sun-il- 
lumined hair.} 

LADY  SOUTHWOLD:  You  will  always  give  Wil- 
fred good  counsel,  won't  you,  darling? 

CICELY  SEYMOUR:  Mr.  Bertram  will  want  no 
counsel  but  his  own  conscience.    Oh,  Lord  South- 
wold,  conscience  is  so  rare  in  our  days,  you  should 
107 


TA    PREM'ATU  RE    S  0  C  I'A  L  I  S  T 

not  laugh  at  those  who  through  all  mockery  try 
to  keep  alive  its  sacred  flame ! 

LORD  SOUTH  WOLD  (with  pleasant  malice}  : 
Since  Wilfred  has  your  esteem  I  laugh  at  him  no 
longer.  I  am  convinced  that  he  is  the  wisest  and 
will  be  the  happiest  of  men. 


SCENE  III. — It  is  midnight  in  London.  'A  terrific 
storm  is  in  progress  endangering  lives  and 
destroying  property.  Thunder  Tills  the  air 
with  crashing,  ominous  sounds  while  zigzag 
lightning  rends  the  heavens.  HOPPER  is  out 
on  bail  with  some  loose  change  in  his  pocket 
which  BERTRAM  has  given  him.  He  has 
sought  shelter  in  an  ill-lighted,  wretched  pub- 
lic house  ivhere  some  anarchists  are  seated 
at  a  table  drinking  and  plotting  mischief.  As 
he  saunters  past  them  toward  a  bar,  one  of 
them  accosts  him. 

IST  ANARCHIST:  Hello,  Hopper!  How  is  it 
you've  got  loose  so  devilish  quick?  Must  have  a 
pull  somewhere,  eh? 

2ND  ANARCHIST:  'Av  a  seat!  be  sociable!  (He 
raps  loudly  on  the  table  and  when  a  waiter  ap- 
pears calls  out:}  Another  bottle  of  gin  ! 
(HOPPER  seats  himself  and  glances  cringingly  at 
the  group   of  fierce-looking  men.     He  has 
not  yet  recovered  from  his  last  debauch;  his 
eyes   are   blood-shot,    his    lips    cracked,  his 
throat  parched.) 

HOPPER  :  You're  right.    I  hev  a  pull.    It's  Mr. 
Bertram,  the  son  of  a  peer.     He  always  speaks 
hup  for  a  pore  'onest  man.  He  hev  bailed  me  out. 
108 


"A    PREMATURE    S  OCI'ALI  ST 

(The  waiter  brings  the  liquor  and  an  extra  glass 
for    HOPPER.    //   is   quickly   filled    by    the 
fiercest  looking  of  the  group.) 
3RD  ANARCHIST:  Let's  drink  a-standin'  to  the 
man  as  has  a  pull ! 
(All  clink  glasses,  rise  in  a  clattering,  ungainly 

fashion  and  toss  off  the  liquor.) 
2ND  ANARCHIST  :  While  we're  up  I  propose  we 
drink  to  Ben,  who's  ready  to  blow  the  world  up 
to  save  pore  'umanity. 
(The  glasses  are   refilled,   clinked  and   drunk. 

They  re-seat  themselves.') 
IST    ANARCHIST    (blowing    a    shrill    whistle, 
which  causes  the  waiter  to  come  to  him  with  fly- 
ing feet)  :  'Tain't  no  good  foolin'  with  a  short 
order   of   liquor  when   we're   'onored   with  the 
company  o'   "Wet  Whistle."    Bring  an  armful 
of  'em. 
(Several  bottles  are  quickly  brought  and  placed 

on  the  table.    Glasses  are  refilled.) 
IST  ANARCHIST:  So  you've  a  pull  on  a  bloated, 
bloomin'  aristocrat  as  bails  you  out  when  you  gets 
into  trouble,  eh.  Hopper? 

HOPPER  (quite  set  up)  :  I  hev,  an'  he's  kep' 
promisin'  on  me  beer'd  be  free  all  'round — prom- 
ised as  'ow  I'd  live  in  Windsor  Castle  and  hev 
ale  and  gin  on  tap  all  day  long.  Promised  as  'ow, 
if  I'd  put  bombs  in  public  buildings  he'd  give  me 
the  run  o'  the  cellars  of  Buckingham  Palace. 
(The  Anarchists  look  significantly  at  one  an- 
other.) 

IST  ANARCHIST:  You're  just  the  man  to  do  the 
world  a  good  turn  and  not  have  to  pay  for  the  job 
109 


A     PREMATURE    SOCIALIST 

with  yer  life.  An'  if  you  do  it  slick  we'll  see  to  it 
that  you  hev  ale  and  beer  on  tap  all  day  long 
though  you  live  to  be  as  old  as  Deuteronomy ! 

2ND  ANARCHIST  (admiringly}  :  How  wise  you 
be,  Ben.  I  never  heerd  tell  on  him. 

HOPPER  :  What  am  I  to  do  to  hev  ale  and  gin 
on  tap  all  day  long  like  Deut — Deut — what's  that 
fellow's  name? 

IST  ANARCHIST:  Deuteronomy!  Great  Caesar! 
Nothin' !  A  mere  trifle !  We've  done  the  'ard 
work  ourselves.  We've  risked  our  lives  makin'  a 
breach  in  the  wall  and  hev  put  the  explosives  on 
the  right  spot  an'  this  'orrible  storm-devil  has 
come  to  protect  us. 

(For  a  brief  time  all  four  listen  to  the  mad  tem- 
pest without,  paling  a  trifle  as  a  terrific 
crash  of  thunder  appears  to  threaten  dire 
destruction.) 

HOPPER  (anxiously)  :  What  is  it  I'm  to  do  to 
be  sure  I'll  hev  ale  and  gin  on  tap  all  day  long 
like  Deut — Deut 

IST  ANARCHIST  (impatiently)  :  Deuteronomy, 
you  fool !  Why  nothin'  but  put  a  lighted  match 
to  a  fuse  a-ready  for  it.  We've  hed  a  terrible 
time  gettin'  the  hole  made  in  the  wall  without 
ennybody  seein'  us.  It's  under  that  illigint  new 
palace  as  has  been  built  with  money  got  by  makin' 
slaves  of  them  as  works  for  its  owner. 

3RD  ANARCHIST  (becoming  noisy)  :  Down,  I 
say,  with  the  whole  hellish  brood  as  'andles  tainted 
money — money  as  is  steeped  in  sighs,  an'  groans, 
an'  innocent  'uman  blood ! 

2ND  ANARCHIST  (clinking  his  glass  with  the 
1 10 


A    PREMATURE    SOCIALIST 

others)  :   We   must   drink   to   them    'igh    senti- 
ments ! 

(Two  French  anarchists  now  slip  in  out  of  the 
storm  and  are  warmly  greeted  by  their  Eng- 
lish brothers.  They  have  but  lately  escaped 
from  France,  where  they  have  been  dis- 
tributing documents  which  would  float  into 
the  streets  quietly  and  gently  like  snowflakes, 
before  the  eyes  of  the  police.  The  following, 
translated  into  English,  is  a  fair  sample  of 
their  import:  "People,  retake  your  liberty, 
your  initiative,  and  keep  them.  The  Govern- 
ment is  the  valet  of  Capital.  Down  ivith  the 
Government!  Down  with  the  king,  Loubet! 
To  the  seiver  with  the  Senate!  To  the  river 
with  the  Chamber!  To  the  dunghill  with  all 
this  ancient,  social  rottenness!"  In  the 
midst  of  their  drinking  and  hilarity  one  of  the 
French  anarchists  at  the  request  of  his  Eng- 
lish confreres,  sings  ^vith  enkindling  fury  the 
most  vindictive  version  of  the  Carmagnole, 
as  follows : 

I. 

Dans  la  grande  ville  de  Paris  (bis) 
II  y  a  des  bourgeois  bien  nourris,  (bis) 
II  y  a  les  misereux 
Qui  ont  le  ventre  creux. 
Ceux-la  ont  les  dents  longues, 
Vive  le  son,  vive  le  son 
Ceux-la  ont  les  dents  longues, 
uoA 


A    PREMATURE    SOCIALIST 

£  ive  le  son 

D'  I'  explosion. 

REFRAIN  (in  which  all  join  but  HOPPER,  who 
prefers  to  play  his  favorite  role  of  "  Wet 
Whistle."} 

Dansons  la  Ravachole, 

Vive  le  son,  vive  le  son, 

Dansons  la  Ravachole, 

Vive  le  son 

D'  I'  explosion. 

Ah,  ga  ira,  qa  ira,  qa  ira, 

TOMS  les  bourgeois  gout  'ront  d'  la  bombe, 

Ah,  fa  ira,  ga  ira,  <;a  ira, 

Tons  les  bourgeois  on  les  saut  'ra, 

On  les  saut  'ra. 

II. 

II  y  a  les  magistrats  vendus  ( bis} 
II  y  a  les  financiers  ventrus,  (bis) 
II  y  a  les  argosins; 
Mais  pour  tons  ces  coquins 
II  y  a  d'  la  dynamite, 
Vive  le  son 
D'  I'  explosion! 
Dansons,  etc. 

Dansons  la  Ravachole, 
Vive  le  son,  vive  le  son, 
Dansons  la  Ravachole, 
Vive  le  son 
D'  I'  explosion. 

lloB 


A    PREMATURE    SOCIALIST 

Ah,  qa  ira,  qa  ira,  qa  ira, 

Tons  les  bourgeois  gout  'ront  d'  la  bombe, 

Ah,  qa  ira,  qa  ira,  qa  ira, 

Tons  les  bourgeois  on  les  saut  'ra, 

On  les  saut  'ra. 

III. 

II  y  L  les  senateurs  gateux,  (bis) 
II  y  a  les  deputes  vereux,  (bis) 
II  y  a  les  generaux, 
Assassins  et  bourreaux, 
Bouchers  en  uniforme, 
Vive  le  son,  vive  le  son, 
Bouchers  en  uniforme, 
Vive  le  son 
D'  I'  explosion. 
Dansons,  etc. 

Dansons  la  Ravachole, 

Vive  le  son,  vive  le  son, 

Dansons  la  Ravachole, 

Vive  le  son 

D'  I'  explosion. 

Ah,  qa  ira,  qa  ira,  qa  ira, 

Tous  les  bourgeois  gout  'ront  d'  la  bombe, 

Ah,  qa  ira,  qa  ira,  qa  ira, 

Tous  les  bourgeois  on  les  saut  'ra, 

On  les  saut  'ra. 

IV. 

II  y  a  les  hotels  des  richards  (bis) 
Tandis  que  les  pauvres  dechards  (bis) 
jipC 


A    PREMATURE    SOCIALIST 

A  demi-morts  de  froid 

Et  souffrant  daiu  leurs  doigts. 

Refilent  la  comete, 

Vive  le  son,  vive  le  son 

Refilent  la  comete, 

Vive  le  son 

D'  I'  explosion. 

Dansons.  etc. 

l» 

Dansons  la  Ravachole, 

Vive  le  son,  vive  le  son, 

Dansons  la  Ravachole, 

Vive  le  son 

D'  V  explosion. 

Ah,  qa  ira,  qa  ira,  qa  ira, 

Tons  les  bourgeois  gout  'ront  d'  la  bombe, 

Ah,  qa  ira,  qa  ira,  qa  ira, 

Tons  les  bourgeois  on  les  saut  'ra, 

On  les  saut  'ra. 

V. 

Ah,  nom  de  dieu,  faut  en  ~nir!  (bis} 
Asses  longtemps  geindre  et  souffrir!  (bis) 
Pas  de  guerre  d  moitie! 
Plus  de  lache  pitie! 
Mort  d  la  bourgeoisie, 
Vive  le  son,  vive  le  son,   ' 
Mort  a  la  bourgeoisie, 
Vive  le  son 
D'  I'  explosion! 
Dansons,  etc. 

0    ANARCHIST    (clinking    his   glass   with    the 
iloD 


'A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

others  and  rising}  :  We  must  drink  a-standin'  to 

them  'igh  sentiments ! 

(All  rise  clatteringly  and  drink,  smacking  their 

lips  and  wiping  their  hairy  months  ivith  their 

rough  hands  or  on  the  sleeves  of  their  ragged 

coats. ) 

IST  ANARCHIST:  The  storm-devil  bids  us  get 

busy,  like  itself.     (Blows  a  whistle  and  having 

secured  the  attention  of  the  boss  calls  out:}  Hi, 

there  !    Bring  us  our  score !    We  must  be  off ! 

(The  bill  is  promptly  made  out  and  as  promptly 
paid,  much  to  the  admiration  of  HOPPER. 
He  secretly  stuffs  two  partly  emptied  bottles 
in  his  pockets  as  he  follows  the  others  out 
into  the  howling  tempest.  They  cross  the 
street  and  soon  disappear  in  the  Stygian 
darkness — to  be  seen  now  and  then  as  the 
lurid  lightning  reveals  their  forms  for  an 
instant. ) 


SCENE  IV. — BERTRAM  has  returned  to  his  rooms. 
They  have  become  shockingly  disordered 
since  he  dismissed  his  valet.  In  one  room 
the  drawers  of  the  cabinet  are  still  on  the 
•floor;  the  chairs  which  fell  are  still  upside 
down;  the  broken  whip  lies  in  the  corner;  he 
is  extremely  thirsty  and  he  has  not  an  idea 
where  the  mineral  waters  or  the  syphon  of 
seltzer,  or  even  the  glasses,  are  kept.  "What 
miserable  creatures  we  are!"  he  reflects.  "Of 
course  it  all  comes  from  the  utterly  false  sys- 
tem of  one  person  leaning  on  others."  Yet  he 
reluctantly  realises  that  the  false  system  has 
ill 


rA     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

its  merits  as  far  as  individual  comfort  goes. 
At  this  moment  there  is  a  sharp  ring  at  the 
door  bell  and  a  moment  later  still  a  male 
voice  cries'. 

SIR  HENRY  STANHOPE:  Can  I  come  in,  Ber- 
tram? 

BERTRAM    (in  extreme  surprise}  :  You,  Stan- 
hope? 

SIR  HENRY  STANHOPE:  Myself! 
(He  is  Sir  Henry  Stanhope,  the  Home  Secretary 
of  the  actual  Government.  Bertram  was  his 
fag  at  Eton,  and  a  good  deal  of  cordial  feel- 
ing has  always  existed  between  them,  de- 
spite the  vast  and  irreconcilable  difference 
of  their  social  and  political  opinions.  Sir 
Henry  regards  him  as  a  maniac,  but  an  in- 
teresting and  lovable  one.  Bertram  regards 
him  in  return  as  a  hopeless  Philistine,  but  a 
Philistine  who  means  well  and  has  good 
points,  and  who  is,  in  the  exercise  of  his  hor- 
rible  office,  admirably  conscientious.  His 
conscientiousness  has  not,  however,  pre- 
vented him  from  allowing  to  go  to  the  gal- 
lows a  victim  of  prejudice  ivho  killed  his 
wife  because  he  zvas  tired  of  seeing  her  red 
hair — a  misguided  aesthete  for  whose  release 
Bertram  pleaded  in  vain.  Since  the  time  of 
this  unfortunate  affair  there  has  been  some 
chilliness  in  the  relations  of  Stanhope  and 
himself.  The  Home  Secretary  looks  at 
the  disorder  of  the  chamber  with  some  sur- 
prise and  seats  himself  unbidden.} 

SIR  HENRY  STANHOPE  :  My  dear  Bertram,  old 

112 


'A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

acquaintance  should  not  be  forgot.  Its  memories 
bring  me  here  to-day. 

BERTRAM  (coldly  and  with  a  glance  of  in- 
quiry} :  Thanks. 

SIR  HENRY  STANHOPE  (coughs)  :  You  have  a 
good  many  proteges  among  the  lower  classes,  I 
think. 

BERTRAM  (stoutly)  :  I  deny  there  is  a  lower 
class. 

SIR  HENRY  STANHOPE:  I  know  you  do.  But 
let  us  for  the  moment  use  the  language  of  a  be- 
nighted and  unkind  world.  Your  peculiar  views 
have  led  you  into  forming  these  associations 
which  cannot  be  agreeable  to  your  taste.  But 
did  it  not  occur  to  you  that  they  might  be  com- 
promising as  well  as — as  rather  unrefined? 

BERTRAM  (with  hostility  in  his  tone)  :  Pray, 
explain  yourself. 

SIR  HENRY  STANHOPE  (feeling  nettled  at  the 
manner  in  which  his  amiably  intended  visit  is 
received)  :  Certainly.  In  two  words,  you  have 
a  friend  by  the  name  of  Hopper? 

BERTRAM  (growing  red  in  the  face)  :  Frederick 
Hopper,  yes.  A  very  unfortunate  person,  origi- 
nally a  victim  of  the  London  police. 

SIR  HENRY  STANHOPE:  Possibly.  The  police 
are  always  accused  of  being  oppressors  or  accom- 
plices. This  person  is  known  to  them  as  "Wet 
Whistle,"  because  he  has  exaggerated  views  of 
the  medicinal  value  of  stimulants.  This  victim 
came  again  in  collision  with  the  brute  force  of 
the  police  early  this  morning. 

"3 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

(BERTRAM  is  silent,  fearing  some  new  and  worse 
trouble  in  connection  Tvith  HOPPER.) 

SIR  HENRY  STANHOPE  (-with  culpable  heart- 
lessness}  :  Mr.  Frederick  Hopper  does  not  in- 
terest me  in  the  least,  but  it  appears  you  used 
very  culpable  language  to  the  constables  in  the 
Park ;  and  when  the  man  was  brought  before  the 
Westminster  police  court,  he  gave  your  name  as 
that  of  the  person  who  had  indoctrinated  him 
with  subversive  views,  and  it  seems  that  you  ad- 
mitted having  done  so  to  the  constables  in  Hyde 
Park,  and  stated  that  you  deserved  arrest  more 
than  this  man  Hopper.  The  police,  of  course, 
reported  all  that  you  said  at  headquarters ;  and 
you  are  likely  to  be  very  seriously  compromised 
in  this  matter.  It  is  dangerous  to  play  at  anarch- 
ism in  these  days 

BERTRAM  :  If  anyone  is  to  blame  it  is  certainly 
I  rather  than  Hopper;  but  there  is  no  question 
of  anarchism. 

SIR  HENRY  STANHOPE:  I  should,  myself,  con- 
sider you  the  more  to  blame  of  the  two.  A  magis- 
trate would  take  the  same  view. 

(BERTRAM  does  not  reply.} 

SIR  HENRY  STANHOPE:  Hopper,  in  a  low 
drinking  place,  last  night,  boasted  that  you  had 
promised  him  the  run  of  the  cellars  of  Bucking- 
ham Palace  provided  he  would  place  explosives 
in  public  buildings  or  throw  a  hand  grenade  into 
the  royal  carriage  as  it  is  being  driven  from  Pad- 
dington  Station  next  Monday. 

BERTRAM    (smiling  faintly)  :   Are   you   sure 

114 


'A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

these  vivid  romances  are  not  composed  in  Scot- 
land Yard? 

SIR  HENRY  STANHOPE  (thoroughly  annoyed)  : 
No,  sir!  Scotland  Yard  has  too  many  tragedies 
to  deal  with  to  have  time  or  patience  to  compose 
mock  melodramas.  The  man  Hopper  has  said 
this  and  much  more,  inculpating  you  as  an  an- 
archist. However,  all  might  have  passed  off 
as  a  drunken  ranter's  ravings,  but,  unfortunately, 
there  were  your  published  opinions  in  that  or- 
gan of  yours,  the  Age  to  Come.  The  magis- 
trate, Mr.  Adeane,  being  acquainted  with  these, 
is  justly  of  the  opinion  that  if  you  incite  per- 
sons to  violent  and  nefarious  acts  your  social 
rank  and  intellectual  culture  ought  not  to  save 
you  from  punishment. 

BERTRAM  :  Certainly  they  ought  not. 

SIR  HENRY  STANHOPE:  Then  you  do  admit 
holding  such  opinions  ? 

BERTRAM  (decidedly):  No!  I  am  altogether 
opposed  to  force — force  of  any  kind. 

SIR  HENRY  STANHOPE:  Then  your  protege 
lied? 

BERTRAM  :  If  he  used  such  expressions,  yes. 

SIR  HENRY  STANHOPE:  If!  Do  you  suppose  a 
magistrate  would  send  a  deposition  which  was 
never  made  to  the  Home  Office?  I  repeat  that 
what  gave  weight  to  this  wretched  agitator's  ac- 
cusations of  you  were  the  very — very — advanced 
opinions  acknowledged  and  disseminated  by  you 
in  the  Age  to  Come.  Re-read  for  yourself  such 
passages  as  these:  (STANHOPE  takes  out  his 
notebook  and  reads)  :  "The  rich  man,  however 
"5 


rA     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

estimable  in  his  private  character,  is  in  position 
a  thief  and  in  conscience  a  scoundrel."  Or  this : 
"Poor-rates  and  workhouses  are  the  insult  which 
is  added  to  injury  by  the  rich  in  their  relations 
with  the  poor."  Or  this :  "Nitric  acid  destroys 
more  readily  but  not  more  cruelly  than  unjust 
taxation." 

BERTRAM  :  Do  you  consider  these  statements 
unjustified  by  the  state  of  society? 

SIR  HENRY  STANHOPE:  I  consider  them  most 
dangerous  when  put  before  an  illiterate  person. 

BERTRAM  :  Pray,  then,  let  me  go  and  pick  oak- 
um with  the  unfortunate  man  whom  I  have  con- 
taminated— for  I  easily  guess  that  he  is  in  some 
new  trouble. 

(STANHOPE  with  difficulty  keeps  down  his  rising 
anger. ) 

SIR  HENRY  STANHOPE:  My  dear  Bertram,  I  re- 
gret that  you  appreciate  my  intentions  so  lit- 
tle. I  received  the  fresh  communication  from 
Mr.  Adeane  but  a  short  time  before  coming 
here.  If  I  had  done  as  I  ought  I  should  per- 
haps have  let  things  take  their  own  course.  But 
I  know  you ;  and  I  know  that  it  is  an  exaggerated 
altruism  that  runs  away  with  you  into  dangerous 
places;  and  that  you  are  the  last  man  to  incul- 
cate or  to  approve  of  crime. 

BERTRAM  :  But  what  is  crime  ?  Have  not  regi- 
cides many  apologists  ?  Is  Carlyle  alone  in  admir- 
ing Cromwell?  As  boys  are  we  not  adorers  of 
Harmodius  and  Aristogiton?  Have  not  the  most 
bloody  revolutions  come  trippingly  on  the  heels 
of  inordinate  and  costly  display  on  the  part  of 
116 


rA    PREMATURE    SOCIALIST 

those  who  have  unduly  heaped  up  riches  for 
selfish  ends  and  whose  imitators  we  adore  to- 
day? When  did  the  ominous  handwriting  ap- 
pear on  the  wall ?  What  caused  the  fall  of  Rome? 
What  brought  to  pass  "The  Reign  of  Terror"? 
What  causes  every  serious,  thoughtful  person  to 
quake  with  fear  to-day  when  he  observes  history 
repeating  itself? 

SIR  HENRY  STANHOPE  (waving  aside  these 
historical  precedents  and  forebodings)  :  The  mag- 
istrate took  a  lenient  view  of  Hopper  this  morn- 
ing and  thought  his  being  found  where  he  was  ex- 
cused by  drink  (we  are  so  immorally  lenient  to 
drink  in  this  country!)  and  so  I  was  enabled  by 
using  unacknowledged  influence  (a  thing  I 
loathe  to  do)  to  get  the  affair  hushed  up.  But 
I  cannot  prevent  your  being  marked  by  the  po- 
lice and  considered  a  dangerous  person.  You 
will  probably  be  shadowed  for  some  time  to  come 
and  if  anything  of  this  kind  occurs  again  it  will  be 
out  of  my  power  to  save  you  from  exceedingly 
disagreeable  consequences. 

BERTRAM  :  But  what  new  trouble  has  Hopper 
got  into?  I  fail  to  understand. 

SIR  HENRY  STANHOPE  :  Good  Lord !  Have  I  not 
told  you?  The  truth  is  I  have  been  so  con- 
cerned about  you  that  my  brains  are  muddled. 
Why,  he  was  found  beastly  drunk,  early  this 
morning,  near  a  lot  of  dynamite  in  a  cellar  under- 
neath that  new,  magnificent  palace  not  yet  quite 
finished.  He  said  the  storm  drove  him  there 
for  protection  and  that  he  knew  nothing  of 
what  was  stored  there.  Fortunately  the  magis- 
117 


A     PREMATURE     SOCIALIST 

trate  believed  him  to  be  speaking  the  truth  for 
once  in  his  life. 

BERTRAM  (with  sudden  warmth  and  feeling)  : 
I  am  deeply  grateful  to  you,  Stanhope,  for  your 
sympathy  and  help.  But  what  has  become  of  poor 
Hopper,  who  seems  determined  to  make  a  beast 
of  himself? 

SIR  HENRY  STANHOPE:  Oh!  we  nearly  scared 
the  life  out  of  the  still  tipsy  creature.  Ordered 
him  to  leave  the  country — without  another  drink. 
He  is  headed  for  America,  that  wonderful  land, 
where  anarchism  has  become  a  fine  art  protected 
by  law. 

(Both  gentlemen  laugh  heartily,  shaking  one  an- 
other by  the  hand  warmly,  as  they  do  so.) 
j 

CURTAIN. 
THE    END. 


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NAN   &  SUE 

Stenographers 

"Bv  HARRIET  C.  CUU.ATOM}) 
$1.00. 

.You've  ho  doubt  heard  of  this  book !  7 It  stands~aH 
alone  in  the  originality  of  its  title  and  subject,  and  every- 
one knows  how  charming  a  subject  "Nan  &  Sue,  Ste- 
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office  in  New  York  run  by  two  young  and  pretty  girls. 
who  have  the  most  amusing  adventures.  The  book's  ap- 
pearance is  as  original  and  charming  as  Nan  and  Sue 
themselves. 

Order  now  and  join  the  procession  on  the  autumn 
loth  edition. 


BOOKS  YOV  NVST  READ 
SOONER    OR    LATER 

HER 
NAKED    SOUL 

By 
CURRER     BUTE 

£?£>&•  ILLUSTRATED  £>£?£? 

J$3&~  A   Wonderful   \\"ork  of  Self-Revelation   ex- 
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ductions as  Night  excels  Day. 
jgf  The    Louisville    Courier  Journal    devotes    a 
column  and  a  half  editorial  to  it. 

•The  SENSATION  of  the  Season. 


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Evelyn 

A  Story  of  the   West  and  the  Far  East 
BY  MRS.  ANSEL  OPPEFHEIM. 

4  Illus.    $1.50. 
Limited  edition  in  leather,  $2.00. 

TV  praM  tan  ipokro  of  tkli  book  with  ainiualUU-d  term* 


The  L&st  of  the  CavaJiers 

BY  N.  J.  FLOYD. 

9  "Drawings  and  Author's  Photo. 
$1.50- 

"No  wiser  or  more  brilliant  pen  has  told  the  story  of 
the  Civil  War  than  Capt.  Floyd's ;  no  work  more  thrilling 
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BOOKS  YOV  MUST  READ 
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The  Instrument  Tuned 

BY  ROSA  B.  Hirr. 

Attractive  Binding,  75  cents. 

Limited  Edition  in  White  and  Gold,  $1.00, 

(Author's  photo.) 

•  An  able  and  interesting  work  on  a  comparatively  new 
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to  the  needs  of  humanity  in  general. 

The  chapter-captions  will  give  an  excellent  idea  of  the 
comprehensive  and  practical  character  of  the  work:. 

Various  Therapeutic  Agents.. 

Influence  of  Mind. 

Extravagant  Emotions. 

Insomnia. 

Relaxation. 

Harmony  the  Law  of  Nature?. 


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Llewellyn 

A  NOVEL 

BY  HADLEY  S.  KIMBERLING. 

Cloth.    $1.50. 
5  Illustrations  by  S.  Klarr. 

Here  is  a  story  whose  artistic  realism  will  appeal  to 
everyone,  while  its  distinction  as  a  serious  novel  is  made 
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all  hearts  by  her  purity  and  charm. 


Satan  of  the  Modern  World 

BY  E.  G.  DOYEN. 

izmo,  cloth,  handsomely  produced. 

$1.50. 

The  title  of  this  book  will  arouse  curiosity,  and  its 
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A  Missburian's  Honor 

BY  W.  W.  ARNOLD. 

Goth,  I2mo.    $1.00. 

3  Illustrations. 


YOU  MUST  READ  1 
SOONER.   OR.   LATER. 

J\[o  Surrender. 

BY  JOHN  N.  SWIFT  AND  WILLIAM  S.  BIRGE,  M.D. 

Cloth,    izmo.        Frontispiece.        Price,    $1.50 

From  the  moment  this  story  opens  in  the  old 
whaling  station  of  New  Bedford,  until  the  climax 
of  climaxes  is  reached  in  the  high  seas  some- 
where off  the  coast  of  Chile,  excitement  and  in- 
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him. 

Imagine,  if  you  can,  the  consternation  of  the 
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Such  a  statement  is  enough  to  arouse  im- 
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ling than  those  which  befall  the  ship,  and  the 
clever  chapter  arrangement  keeps  the  reader's 
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Broadway  Publishing  Company, 

835  Broadway,  New  York, 


BOOKS  YOU  MUST  READ 
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g^jjjT'  New  Book  by  the  Author  of 

A  Girl  and  the  Devil ! 


We  beg  to  announce  for  autumn  a  new  novel  from 
the  pen  of  JEANNETTE  LLEWELLYN  EDWARDS,  entitled 

LOVE  IN  THE  TROPICS 

The  scene  of  Miss  Edwards'  new  work  is  laid  in 
strange  lands,  and  a  treat  may  be  confidently  prom- 
ised the  wide  reading  public  whose  interest  in  her  first 
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••LOVE  IN  THE  TROPICS" 

tvill   be   ready    about  ffottember  1,    and 
particular*  be;///  be  duly  announced. 


The  New  Womanhood 

By   WlNNIFRED   H.   COOLEY. 
$1.25. 

No  more  original,  striking  and  brilliant  treatise  on 
the  subject  indicated  by  the  title  has  been  given  the 
vast  public  which  is  watching  the  widening  of  woman's 
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years  experience ;  she  is  in  the  vanguard  of  the  move- 
ment and  no  one  is  better  qualified  to  speak  to  the  great 
heart  of  womankind 


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GREY  DAWN  REFLECTIONS 

BY  VIRGINIA  BEALE  LECKIE 


This  clever  Washington  girl  has  come  close  to 
writing  the  wittiest  and  brightest  book  of  epigrams 
that  has  appeared  in  this  epigram-mad  age.  A  few 
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A  friend  lies  for  —  an  enemy  about  —  and  a  wife  with  —  you. 

If  your  grandfather  made  it  in  pigs  you  have  a  perfect 
right  to  look  haughty  when  pork  is  served. 

A  married  woman's  troubled  look  at  3  A.  M.  is  not  so  much 
due  to  worrying  "  if"  as  to  "  how"  he  will  come  home. 

The  majority  of  women  lay  the  first  misstep  to  Cupid  ;  some 
to  the  man  ;  but  It  is  a  fact,  if  open  to  criticism,  that  curiosity 
and  the  opportunity  are  often  to  blame. 

Printed  on  grey  antique  paper.  Cover  in  grey, 
red,  green  and  gold.  Marginal  decorations  in  color. 
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I6T  What  daintier  holiday  gift  for  your  HIM  or 
HER? 


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BETWEEN  THE  LINES 

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Broadway  Publishing  Company, 

835  Broadway,  New  York. 


ADIRONDACK 
MURRAY 

A     Biographical    Appreciation 

By  HARRY  V.  RADFORD 

Editor  of  "Woods  and  "Waters 


W.  H.  H.  MURRAY  (b.  1840,  d.  19041— equally  celebrated 
as  preacher,  author,  lecturer,  sportsman  and  traveler — has  be- 
come an  immortal  figure  in  American  history  and  letters,  taking 
rank,  as  a  writer,  with  Cooper  and  Thoreau.  Mr.  Radford — 
himself  an  author  and  sportsman  of  national  repute,  and  ac- 
knowledged the  greatest  living  authority  upon  Adirondack 
sport  and  literature — has  told  the  wonderful  story  of  "  Adiron- 
dack "  Murray  from  the  vantage-point  of  personal  acquaintance, 
and  with  a  characteristic  grace  and  charm  of  style  that  insures 
for  his  book  permanent  popularity. 


HENRY    VAN    DYKE 

in  a  personal  letter  written  to  the  author  from    "  Avalon," 
Princeton,  N.  J.,  says  of  Mr.  Radford's  book  : 

"  Your  writing  takes  me  back  in  imagination  to  that  beautiful  country  of 
mountains,  and  rivers,  and  lakes,  where  so  many  of  the  happiest  months  of 
my  early  life  were  spent,  and  where  I  learned  to  cast  the  fly  and  shoot  a 
rifle.  It  Is  pleasant  to  feel  the  sincere  and  cordial  enthusiasm  with  which 
you  wriie  of  the  fine  trails  of  A'ir.  Murray's  character,  and  the  bi  g  out-of- 
door  siJe  of  his  life  in  which  the  best  of  his  nature  found  expression. 
I  congratulate  you  on  the  success  with  which  you  have  performed  your 
task  of  gratitude  and  friendship,  and  hope  that  your  book  will  find  its 
way  into  the  hands  of  thousands  of  those  who  love  the  woods  and  the 
waters." 


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